


Rise of the Griffon

by XQueen0fHellx



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, I'm Not Tagging Minor Characters, Multi, Multi Warden Story, Named Wardens, Suggest Tags Dear Readers, i write too much, long story, too many tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26589793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XQueen0fHellx/pseuds/XQueen0fHellx
Summary: I long wanted to write about my wardens and their story throughout the events of Dragon Age Origins, mostly sticks to canon events, some deviation. Tried to make it original as well, probably failed. The story jumps between three main characters, Aria, Damien, and Elle, some having entire chapters to themselves and some chapters seeing perspectives from all three. Thanks for reading!
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age), Amell/Morrigan (Dragon Age), Mahariel/Tamlen (Dragon Age), Morrigan/Warden (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai/Mahariel, Zevran Arainai/Warden
Kudos: 1





	1. About, Disclaimer, FAQ, Links

A guide to my Dragon Age Fanfic

Dragon Age has been a fascination for me since it first came out. I saved up Christmas money to purchased the game and I remember begging for computer time from my parents so I could spend as much time as I could. I also would sneak out of bed after they were asleep to get some more time in. Clearly I had an obsession!

I always have enjoyed the world and series. I have done many playthroughs, hours of achievement hunting, and countless hours reading and researching the world as much as I could. My dream job if at all possible would be to go work for Bioware on the Dragon Age world, if I could write a novel in the setting for the world to read, I'd be in seventh heaven! For now though, I'm sticking to fanfic, telling the stories of my characters while doing my best not to break canon too much.

This story is only the first. I plan on doing my Champion and Inquisitor as well, along with the canon and non canon companions I have designed. I do not know how many chapters it will be, only that it will take as many as it will need. I might also even go back and expand on things in the future, if I discover something important is relevant in games or novels that have yet to be released. I am always learning new things, and I am infallible. There is no way I know every aspect there is to know of this universe. I wish to eventually have a fully complete work, so that someone who hasn't taken the time to game can enjoy the full stories front to end.

Rise of the Griffon follows the story of Estelle, Damien and Aria. The main plot points of major decisions that carry on in my canon game playthroughs are those of Elle, the defacto leader of the group, although Damien and Aria do make their opinions and voices heard, which can give some insight to how I have played other times. I try not to play favorites, but Elle may always been my favorite of the bunch.

The story also contains characters belonging to my friends. I gave their people a home in my world with their permission, tweaking their histories and such to fit. In fact, I am running a DA RPG game for some friends, and their party runs across the characters in this story a few times. 

I am more than happy to talk Dragon Age related anything with anyone. I will do my best not to give spoilers in those discussions, even if the stories themselves do hold many spoilers for the games and books. If I get too many comments and messages, please don't be offended if I miss someone <3

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Disclaimer

~The Dragon Age setting is a very dark setting, and there are a lot of mature things that happen in the setting. Foul language, bloodshed, self harm, death, torture, gore, abuse, alcoholism, and more (I'm not 100% sure where the story will lead me as I write it what else might be involved), are all evident in the story. The story is labeled with mature ratings because of this even if some chapters are safe.

~Anything sexual in nature will have it's own chapter that will no detract from the story if it is read without it. The table of contents and the description of each chapter will state if the next chapter is sexual, and have a link to the one after if as well so anyone who doesn't want to read that part can skip it. In the event of sexual abuse, I'm not sure how much of it I will write, those scenes will also be written optionally if I do write them, and will only be talked about, not described in the main story most likely, but we shall see.

~I do not own Dragon Age or any of the canon characters within besides my own ocs, those belong to Bioware. I am in no way implying ownership.

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F.A.Q.  
Any other questions will be added below. Some spoilers are contained in the questions and answers.

What is Dragon Age?  
I appreciate you taking the time to read the story, and throughout I will be doing my best to explain what is happening for those that don't know the story and lore, but I will not explain every last little bit in the story. If something is confusing, please bring it up though! I will do my best to alter the story to make it easier to understand.

Why no dwarven wardens?  
Honestly, I don’t have much of an answer to this one. I have nothing against dwarves, I love Oghren, Varric, and many other dwarven companions and npcs, but I guess none of the dwarven origins really appealed to me? I’ve played them all for completionism but I guess I felt it was better to tie in the few I had instead of adding in someone all the way from Orzammar. 

Why no love for Leliana?  
I always found it strange that if Leliana romanced the Warden, that she also had no clue where the Warden might have been when her and Cassandra were looking for the Champion and the Warden as potential new Inquisitors. I’m sorry but Leliana is a sweetie and if her love isn’t keeping her in the loop, it made no sense. You would think they’d keep in contact somehow. I also felt that Leliana’s purpose was always to the Maker and the Divine, and as much as she might have loved the Warden, I don’t think they would have ever been more important than that, which just like Sebastion, I get it, I just don’t like it lmao. Also, in the Darkspawn Chronicles, it is implied Leliana and Alistair have a relationship. Soooo she’s a little hung up over him throughout this to see her other potentials ;)

Are you a homophobe? All your relationships here are straight!  
No. I am personally bi, I’ve been in a poly relationship, and I’m totally okay with those who are gay. That being said, Alistair and Morrigan are straight so if I wanted someone to go through the eluvian with her, and someone to romance Ali and end up on the throne, I had to make 'em the appropriate gender. Sure I could bend it but I'm trying to stick to canon. As for Aria, since she was my first character, I wasn’t going to switch up her gender to throw her with a totally gay Zevran. She’s with him and not Leliana due to reasons stated earlier, and she’s a bit racist. Why did I just skip giving her a relationship then or make up a new npc? Eh it was funner this way. I felt bad not giving her Ali and making her his mistress like I did in my playthrough, Elle would have killed them both lmao, and wanted to let her have a bit of happiness after the whole Tamlen thing. Yeah, I went there. Also, in Ferelden, same sex relationships are rare, and I’m unsure of how the Dalish see them. Besides, I’m playing around with the idea that after the events of DA2, Aria and Zevran add Merrill to their little party for poly fun times. All depends on what they do with DA4 events, I’m sure I’ll still be writing by the time that comes out.

Why didn’t you just make Damien a warden from the beginning and have him do the ritual with Morrigan instead of Alistair?  
Honestly? I like importing Elle’s world states through my gameplays, and I like having the Warden queen. That being said, that would mean Alistair would have had to have done the ritual. I wasn’t going to change up the story too much. Besides, that scene is an emotional roller coaster for everyone involved and I love throwing characters into those crazy scenarios. Maybe I’m sadistic. Plus I wanted Damien to have a little bit of freedom before being tied down to the Wardens. 

Why bother making Aria Warden-Commander after the events of Awakening? Isn’t she more tainted that Elle and would be more likely to search for the cure for the Calling?  
Aira was my very first character in the world of Dragon Age. I couldn’t just brush her to the side and wanted her to have some sort of importance. That being said, it made sense to give Elle the title of Hero and make her Commander for the time being. Elle at that point had about as much taint in her as Aria having faced more darkspawn and strong tainted beings like The Mother and the Architect. And who's to say Aria and Damien don’t join her for the search for the cure? ;)

Why does your events line up to in game events and don’t in others?  
A little bit of creative freedom was used because this is indeed fan fiction, and not supposed to be 100% canon, even though I am doing my best to make it mostly canon friendly. I wasn’t going to have Elle side with the reavers to get the specialization or waiting for awakening to get the tome. So I threw some extras in, redid some stuff, but otherwise it does follow the game pretty well. Except for you know, only having a tiny party. It’s so much funner, and makes more sense in my opinion, picturing the entire party taking on a dragon, or chewing through the deep roads, plus you get more dialogue options!

Where did you find (insert random bit of lore here)?  
The Dragon Age Wiki is a huge help, but I also refer to in game events, scouring the internet for bits from official team members, plus I have read all the books and played all the games. I can try to track something down if you’d like. I have all the comics, videos, and most of the books in a google drive if you’d like to see them, and I’m working on converting the novels to pdf and/or recording readings of them to also share those.

I don’t remember that happening in game! Did you make it up?  
Possibly. It also is quite possible it’s a conversation line you missed. I never knew about Alistair’s love of cheese because I somehow always missed the correct dialogue choices to get that, and was confused about him being called the cheese king for many years. I research all the different dialogue choices, including watching a million and two youtube videos, and digging through the game files. I’ll pull on things from conversations and lore tidbits from anywhere and place them where I find most appropriate. An example being that it is hinted that there are forms of birth control or abortion among the mages of the circle, but it never explicitly explained. I made up my own explanation for it.

Aria doesn’t have as much backstory as Elle and Damien! Why is that?  
While Aria is my first Dragon Age character and I will always love her, I don’t know a lot about the Dalish. I have been doing a lot of research on them, especially on their language to throw stuff in there to flavor her dialogue, but I didn’t want to take too many liberties on the Dalish, preferring to keep them more mysterious until more canon information is revealed.

This one sounds like it only is for Origins, what about the other games?  
I plan on writing them up too! I just will have separate bios and stories for each one to introduce new characters, even though old ones can and will make reappearances.

Will you turn this into a comic?  
Potentially! Depends on how confident I am in my art skills. For now you just get to see random art pieces that I might post on various sites.

Can I draw your characters/scenes/etc?  
Absolutely! I would love to see your interpretation of things! Alternate AU's are also okay, like if you want to draw my characters with yours, or ship Elle and Oghren for example, lmao

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Character Bios and Galleries  
At time of posting, Estelle has the most written for her bios, I plan on working on the others here more soon. I hope.

Aria: https://toyhou.se/6655856.aria-mahariel  
Damien: https://toyhou.se/4821848.damien-amell  
Estelle: https://toyhou.se/4276050.estelle-cousland-theirin


	2. Mirror, Mirror

Elves in cities often lived shorter life spans than those out in the wild. They became as quick lived as the shemlen, making them not much different. The shems saw the city elves as elves, a race to be used and often were not much more than slaves and the downtrodden, living in the poor sections of town and struggling to make ends meet. The Dalish saw their city cousins as pointy eared humans, having given up tradition and what little remained of their past and immortality. The city elves didn’t belong anywhere. 

One such elf was Pol, a runaway from the shemlen capital. Although the Sabre clan took him in, he was awkward and slow to learn, and Aria wondered if he would ever gain his facial tattoos. Watching him was like watching a wounded bird try to fly. Oh he desperately wanted to fit in, but it was painful to watch. She watched him now, trying to string a bow. 

“Dirthara.” Was all she said to him as she sat on the bench besides him. While the city elf didn’t know a lot of their language, that was a word he knew well, having heard it many times before. Learn. With a gentle touch, she teased the bow from his grasp, and slowly strung it. She could string a bow in her sleep, so had to make her motions exaggerated, easy for him to see. While she knew that the city elves could use weapons, she suspected they did more with thrown rocks or knives in the dark, perhaps even blunt staves. He had been accused of stealing, and had fled for his life until he had found refuge with the clan. Still, they didn’t keep anyone who couldn’t pull their own weight, so he was forced to learn their ways. In many of the clan member’s eyes, he was nothing more than a shemlen himself, a few had called him flat-eared, an insult almost as bad as the knife-ear comments the shems threw at them. Aria Maheriel was one of the few willing to be patient with him, but it was hard at times. She suspected teaching him was akin to raising a child, not that she had any experience with that.

“Thank you, I mean, ma serannas.” he said to her, and she gave him a smile in return. “You’re welcome.” A hint of laughter was in her voice. He was trying, and that had to count for something right? “Much of the language has been lost even to us. If you don’t speak a lot of the elvhen that’s fine.” She left him to try again on his own as she had other things to attend to today. 

As she headed to the halla pens, she stopped, observing a young elf on a cot receiving his vallaslin. She gently reached up to touch her own face to the markings inked there years previously when she turned seventeen. Her ink was still dark and fresh, almost like the first day she got them even though it had been eight years since the vallaslin needles pierced her skin. She saw the lad fighting not to make a sound, and she remembered the struggle she had too as she meditated in silence, attempting to ignore the pain of the needle. Receiving the blood writing was a sacred tradition done in silence once an elf reached an age they were considered an adult, or mature enough. If the silence was broken, receiving the vallaslin would be held for another day as that was a sign the elf was not mature enough to be considered an adult yet. 

As was tradition, Keeper Marethari, the leader of the Sabre clan, was applying the writing, while her First, her apprentice, was standing nearby to mix the ink. Not even Aria knew what the ink consisted of, although it was not her place to find out. Merrill, the Keeper’s First and one of Aria’s best friends looked up from the ink and gave a smile to her before continuing her task. There would be time to talk later once they had both finished the their tasks at hand.

She continued on her way to the halla pen, as she was going to be assisting Maren with the care of the beasts. The sight of the magnificent beasts always stirred something within her heart. Perhaps that was why she got the vallaslin of the goddess of the halla, Ghilan’nain. The beasts were pure white, although there were rumors or rare ones being a golden color. They resembled large stags with magnificently twisted antlers. The Dalish used them for transportation, they pulled the aravels, the landships that the Dalish used to travel. In times past, they used to be used to bear elven knights into battle. They, like goats and cattle, were also used as a source of milk, cheese and butter. Unlike any other beast of the shemlen, the halla were revered, and were never used for their meat, that would almost be considered sacrilegious. The elves never forced the halla to do their bidding among the clans, instead asking the beasts. If they trusted you, they would do as was asked. Outsiders often hunted them for their horns as they were considered valuable. Perhaps part of that was due to the fact that the Dalish would be the ones to carve their antlers into the intricate designs that the majestic beasts deserve. 

Maren was already in the pen, collecting milk into a bucket. She nodded as Aria approached, and the younger elf grabbed another bucket and ducked into the pen. A few elves sometimes came to watch, just as mesmerized by the halla as Aria was. She bowed to the first beast, and reached up to scratch behind an ear. “Nuva ar?” she gently asked the beast, indicating the bucket. The halla lowered her head and exhaled in her face, and Aria gave it another scratch before she got to work. 

It didn’t take long for the two of them to get through with the herd, they were so accustomed to the ritual that time seemed to fly by. As Aria collected milk from the last of the halla, Maren collected the ones Aria had already filled, her red hair bobbing as she poured them into a large barrel for collection. A smile played upon her face, causing the swirls of her blood writing to seem to curl excessively. Aria always found it amusing that the women who associated with the goddess of the hunt, Andruil, was one of the kindest souls that tended the halla, animals never to be hunted. “Go on then da’len, your work here is done. He’s waiting.” The older elf nodded to the fence where a familiar face brought a smile to Aria’s lips. Tamlen. 

She eagerly got up from her stance and jogged over to him. He had his bow strapped to his back, and hers in hand. “You said we could go hunting today.” He said shyly, and she exited the pen to take her bow from him. “That I did.” She reached up, tracing a finger along a line of his vallaslin, belonging to the Keeper of Secrets, Dirthamen. That same finger then brushed a stray lock of his blonde hair to the side to be swept up with the rest of it. He blushed a bit and gestured to the path out of the camp. 

There was a hesitation between the two of them, something that neither had the courage to say. They found themselves staring into each other’s eyes, Aria often found herself lost in the vastness that was his sky blue orbs, and he likewise would lose himself in her grey green depths. He leaned in, closing his eyes as their lips touched. Aria was surprised to say the least, they had never had any more intimacy besides hugging and the occasional held hands, but didn’t pull away, instead doing quite the opposite. His hands reached up to cradle the sides of her face, tangling into a few stray wisps of dark brown hair, as hers wrapped around his waist to hold him close. 

It was a gentle kiss, one full of nerves at first but growing confident as it continued. The rest of the clan faded away, as to the two of them, only each other existed. A tension that had slowly been growing between them over the years finally erupted, a relief to both that their feelings were reciprocated. What started soft became intense, a kiss full of vigor and tongue that left them both breathless when they finally pulled apart. Neither of them could put into thought the reason why now of all times they had finally kissed, but it was unanimous that they both wanted it.

Both elves blushed, Aria biting her lip as they nervously looked away from each other. No one else was so subtle as the rest of the world came into focus for them, some claps, even a whistle from some of the others in camp. They both blushed harder, trying to look anywhere else. The two might have been blind to the other’s feelings for each other, but to the rest of the clan, they were an open book, and a few had even voiced opinions that the two were taking too long to get on with things. 

“Shall we uhh get a move on?” Aria suggested, looking towards the camp entrance. “Yes, lets.” Tamlen said almost too quick as he walked away. Aria looked after him and followed only after a moment's hesitation. So that was what a first kiss was like. She rather liked it, and hoped there would be more of them forthcoming soon.

They didn’t make it far before an elderly elf stood in there way. Ashalle, Aria’s guardian who took over raising her after her parent’s deaths. She was one of the few grey haired elves, and while her blood writing was faded with age, she still impressively held some of the most ink on her face than any other elf Aria had met with the honor to be called hahren. Aria was nervous to meet her eyes but found only warmth. “I’m happy for you.” was all the elf said before she stepped aside, allowing the two to pass. The feeling was joyful, she knew that Ashalle had wanted the two of them to get together, and hadn’t been so subtle in the last few years. As her guardian, she was possibly waiting for the day she might have adoptive grandchildren. The thought brought a smile to Aria’s lips as she considered the thought.

Hunting was one of Aria’s favorite things to do, and with Tamlen at her side, well, she couldn’t ask for anything better. The two were practically inseparable, the best of friends previously, and perhaps something more now. She didn’t think anything really had changed, just finally admitting things to each other. She couldn’t help but stare at him as they headed out into the wilds. He in turn kept looking back at her and there was a special connection there, even more so than before. They had always been good hunting partners, and perhaps that was one of the things that had pulled them together. It didn’t matter why really, just something to think about as they walked through the trees. 

A warmth settled upon her, and while she was nervous and shy to touch Tamlen again so soon, she found herself twisting the ring on her finger that he had given her many years ago. While not a traditional wedding band like the shems used, it was a ring of friendship, of a promise to never leave each other’s sides. He had a matching one, rings he had Master Ilen help craft when they were younger, having just become adults in the eyes of the clan. She had wondered at the time why Tamlen was doing all sorts of odd jobs for the craftsman, but the matching rings had been a welcome surprise. The other clan members had always fostered the friendship between the two, and the innocent rings seemed to mean something more as the years went by. In the seven years since he had given it to her, she had never taken it off. 

The Brecilian Forest was vast, and even with another clan living in the area, there was plenty of prey to hunt and share. The two elves readied their bows and split up, aiming to herd something towards the other. No words were needed, they had done this enough times for their ritual to be committed to memory, as they silently stalked through the forest. 

Aria could have taken out a few rabbits, although that wouldn’t be much to feed the clan. They had been eating poorly for a while now, due to the winter weather, but spring was coming, and she just knew there was bigger prey to be hand. Deer were starting to become more populous in the area, and taking down a few of those would be beneficial for everyone. 

It was then she heard footsteps, heavy thudding footsteps that belonged to no elf, and that were moving at fast speeds. They weren’t terribly far from camp, and duty dictated that outsiders, especially shemlen were not to be allowed to enter the camp. She quickened her step to catch up, and discovered that she wasn’t the first to run into them as a voice cried out. “It’s a Dalish!” She could hear Tamlen up ahead. “And you three are somewhere you shouldn’t be.” He must have known she was in earshot, giving her information before she could even see their quarry. Three of them, he needed backup. Although she slowed her approach, no need to startle them into action. She needed to appear calm and in control when she emerged from the bushes. 

“Let us pass elf, you have no right to stop us!” Aria choked back a laugh. No right? They had all the right in the world to stop the shems from disrupting their lifestyle. They had ruined enough of the elvhen culture in the past that there was no wonder animosity existed between the two races. She pulled back her bow and notched an arrow as she approached next to the other elf, he had already started to talk, indicating he knew of her approach. “No, we will see about that won’t we?” 

She took in the appearance of the humans, noting none of them carried any visible weapons, and they didn’t even wear armor. Foolish really to be wandering the forest without any means of protection. “You’re just in time. I found these humans lurking in the bushes, bandits no doubt.” Scorn dripped like venom from his voice. “Lurking? I heard them running. I bet something scared them. Was it a little rabbit?” The smile on his face at her joke was worth any provocation it might have caused. 

“We’re not bandits, and it was more than just a rabbit. I swear! Please don’t hurt us! We don’t want any trouble.” Two of the men hid like rabbits themselves behind the third who seemed to be honorary leader of the rag tag group. “To be fair, they don’t look like bandits.” Aria offered, and the men nodded their heads eagerly. Tamlen just scoffed. “You shemlen are pathetic. It’s hard to believe you ever drove us from our homeland.” Just like many elves, the two of them held anger towards many of the shems for forcing them to become what they were now, small secluded clans travelling the world like nomads. Once they had ruled glittering cities, were the most supreme in magic, and somehow the shems took it all from them. It was hard to understand how it was even possible. 

One of the men stuttered, unsure of how to get out of this situation. “W-we-we’ve never done nothing to you Dalish! We didn’t even know this forest was yours!” How ignorant were these people? There was more than one clan living in the forest at the time, if Pol could find out the Dalish were residing here, it shouldn’t have been that much of a mystery. Aria was the one scoffing now. Tamlen’s patience with their ignorance was also evident in his voice. “This forest isn’t ours fool. You’ve just stumbled too close to our camp, and that is ours. You shems are like vermin, we can’t trust you not to make mischief.” That was true, too many human hunters had come close only to ruin something. Aria remembered a time when she was younger when the clan was more welcoming to a lost hunter, only for him to slay a halla and attempt to abscond with it in the middle of the night. “What say you lethallan? What shall we do with them?” He was addressing her now, and she thought it over. “Well, we could kill them, no one else would have to know, although that might invite trouble. Nah who cares.” She smirked, her fingers growing twitching on the drawn bowstring. “I like the sound of that. Anything to say in your defense shems? Any last words?” A bit of glee crept into his voice, as he pulled the bowstring tighter. 

“L-look .. w-we didn’t come here to be trouble. There was this cave we found-” More stuttering, and another of the men spoke up. “Yes! A cave! With ruins the like of which we’ve never seen! We thought there might be some, uhh” he trailed off, thinking perhaps he was digging a hole too deep for himself. Tamlen and Aria caught the meaning though. “Treasure? So you’re more akin to thieves than actual bandits.” Tamlen’s words echoed my own thoughts. Definitely not safe to let these shems near the camp. While the Dalish didn’t have tons of gold and treasure like what the shems seemed to have an addiction for, there were things of value that someone might want to steal. Now that was more believable from these men in rags. 

“Ha! I’ve lived here for years, and this is the first I’ve heard of these. I’d love to see them for myself.” Aria laughed at them, how stupid did they think the Dalish were anyway? “Yes, so would I. I’ve never heard of any ruins in these parts.” Tamlen had lived with the Sabre clan his whole life compared to Aria who was adopted into the clan when she was young. If he hadn’t heard of them, and the clan had lived in and traveled through these woods on and off his whole lifetime, then there was no way they existed. 

The men didn’t seem to back down from their statements, instead one stepped forward. “I-I have proof!” Still stuttering though, which could be from fear of being killed or fear of being found in a lie, Aria couldn’t tell which. He dug in a pouch at his side, causing the elves to tense up, read to release their arrows, but it turned out to be harmless as he removed a stone that had carvings etched in its surface. “Here! We found this just inside the entrance.” He handed it over and Tamlen lowered his bow to take it. “These carvings ... is this elvish? Written elvish?” His eyes grew wide as he inspected the stone, and even Aria’s eyebrows raised as she looked over at it. The elvish language was all but forgotten, and most examples of it written were lost to the past. Most elves didn’t even know how to write the letters, although there was no denying that those symbols made up elvish words, even if most of the meaning was unknown. 

The man kept talking. “There’s more in the ruins! We didn’t get very far in though…” He trailed off, a look of horror on his face as he obviously went through some sort of terror in there. Aria was curious, and she narrowed her eyes. “Why not? Surely whatever it was couldn’t have been that dangerous to leave you three alive.” The human who had spoke flinched. “There was a demon miss! It was huge!” Another of the men added in more. “It had black eyes and just an evil look to it!” The third spoke up as well. “Thank the Maker we were able to out-run it!” 

At the mention of the Maker both elves scoffed. The shemlen’s god wasn’t the elvish gods, and if this demon was protecting something like lost elven artifacts, then it probably wasn’t the shems’s gods that had anything to do with anything.

“A demon? Just where is this cave?” Tamlen asked of them, disbelief that they could outrun a demon evident in his tone. The three men overlapped voices, all trying to describe the cave. There was pointing and a general consensus of west and a huge hole in the rock face of a cliff, impossible to miss. “Well lethallan, do you trust them? Shall we let them go?”

Aria sighed and relaxed the grip on her bow, loosening the string. She brought the bow down and grabbed the arrow to replace it in her quiver. “I’m sure we’ve frightened them enough. As much as I distrust the shems, it sounds like there might be some truth to their story. They weren’t here to cause trouble for us, and perhaps their tales will keep others from coming back.” Tamlen sneered at the shems. “Today’s your lucky day. Run along then shems, and don’t come back until we Dalish have moved on.” The men didn’t have to be told twice then as they turned tail and fled, a few murmured thank yous followed them and Tamlen finally relaxed his bow. 

“Well, shall we see if there’s any truth to those stories? The carvings have me curious.” He turned the stone fragment over in his hands, still not quite grasping he had a piece of history there. “Perhaps the Keeper would know more? Although a bit of adventure does sound like fun.” Aria suggested, and while letting the Keeper know might be a good thing, she was reluctant to go back just yet. Tamlen seemed to share her sentiment. “You’re right, she would probably be interested in these, but I like your idea of seeing if there’s more to show her. It can’t be too terribly far from here.” 

“West it is then.” Aria smiled and started to walk in the right direction.She didn’t go far though before she noticed Tamlen wasn’t following. “You coming or what?” She turned to face him, and saw him wringing his hands. “Nervous about a potential demon that couldn’t kill even three shemlen thieves?” She teased, a smile in her voice. 

“No - I -” He trailed off and she approached him, not stopping until she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. With that he blushed. “Come on, time for fun is now, there will be more time for us later.” She wasn’t able to pull away as he grabbed her hand in his, and motioned with his head towards the west. “Alright then. Lead the way lethallan.” 

As the two progressed to the west, they ran across a few wolves, scavengers from a larger pack. Aggressively protecting their kill, Aria and Tamlen had no choice but to take them out, their arrows finding their marks. The fresh kill would attract more, so the two set to burying the wolves, marking the spot so they could return to collect them later, as wolf pelts were useful to the clan. The meal the wolves shared though was buried more honorably, as the blood stained coat of the white halla deserved more respect. “Falon’Din enasal enaste.” Aria spoke as she placed a stone over the fresh mound of dirt.

As she stood from the buried halla, something caught her eye. “What in the world-” She trailed off as she pushed through some bushes, Talmen right behind her. The expression of disbelief on his face mirrored hers as they stared at a massive cave with ruined pillars at the entrance. “Well, this must be what they were talking about. I don’t remember seeing this before, have you?” Tamlen’s question wasn’t needed however, as the look on her face said it all. “No, I haven’t, and that worries me.” Tamlen actually laughed at her. “Always the careful one. I’m not running back until there’s something to make a fuss about. Besides, there’s supposed to be a demon. I’d like to see this demon for myself. How dangerous could it be?” It was Aria’s turn to laugh. “Famous last words.” 

They proceeded into the cave, Aria had drawn her bow as the nerves set in. Sure they liked an adventure, but this was something else, it seemed to just be right out of a story. Nothing seemed real. “Looks like those shems were telling the truth, but these ruins don’t seem very elvhen...” Tamlen was staring at rapt fascination at some of the columns as they strode in. It quickly grew darker, only faint sunlight streaming in through holes in the ceiling. How had this place escaped their notice for so many years?

She was glad she had her bow at the ready though, when a skittering called to her attention above her. “Look out!” She called as she loosed an arrow at the large bulbous form that dropped down on her. She managed to get a second arrow off, nailing the arachnid in one of his eyes, causing it to screech something unholy. Tamlen had problems of his own as she could hear another spider drop down. The spider tried to bite at her, she reached for a dagger at her side, repeatedly stabbing the giant form until it stopped moving. She tried to push it off her but to no avail until Tamlen reached down to help pull her own, his own spider a mess of hacked limbs and ichor from his sword. “Thanks.” she muttered as she tried to wipe some of the gore off herself once she got to her feet. “Now that we’re on the lookout for spiders, it’s smooth sailing. Big black eyed demon ha!” Tamlen sure seemed in good spirits and Aria couldn’t help but laugh along with him. 

She took in the cavern they were in, a few broken statues, massive roots from the trees above. “This place has got to be ancient.” she breathed out in wonder. She didn’t see anything of what the shems were talking about though, and figured they must have gone deeper. Tamlen must have had the same thoughts as her as he peered down a corridor. “Looks like this one’s collapsed, lets try the other way.” She nodded and followed his guidance. 

Now that they were on the lookout for the giant spiders, the arrows flew to knock them out of their hiding spots, killing most and causing the rest to flee. They shared a few more laughs on how pathetic the shems were that a few spiders were what bested them. The laughter stopped though when they came across an ancient statue that stood out from the rest. Tamlen ran to inspect it with rapt fascination in his eyes. “I can’t believe it. You recognize this statue, don’t you?” Aria squinted at it, and brushed some dust off the face. “Umm, it looks familiar but I’ve never seen the like before, why?” she questioned, peering into the statue’s worn eyes.

“Back when our people lived in Arlathan, statues like these honored the creators. These statues were some of the things that were lost when the shems enslaved us. The problem is, while this is a statue of our people, the architecture of it and the rest of the ruins is human.” Tamlen held reverence in his voice, and Aria understood why. “Oh. That means this place may date back to the time of Arlathan. Too bad there isn’t more down here.” Her hand traced the face of the statue, regretting that much of the details were lost due to decay and time. “You’ve always known more of our history, perhaps you can teach me some.”

“I’d like that.” he said with a smile, then continued. “There has to be more down here, something of value, and beauty. Not that anything would compare to you.” Aria blushed at his words, brushing back a stray strand of hair from her face. He noticed something else though, and bent down, reaching behind the statue. There in the gloom was an exotic flower, similar to ones she had seen near the camp that only bloomed at night. He plucked it, and brought it to her, to string into her hair. Kissing her softly on the forehead he stepped back to admire his handiwork. “There, somehow you’re even more radiant. Come on, there’s more to see here.” She gripped his hand and they continued down the corridor, and while the threat of the spiders was still in their minds, she allowed herself to be happy in his company. She hummed a bit, and she caught him singing the words under his breath. 

Their song stopped abruptly when something in the floor caught her eye. She tugged on his hand, holding him back and she bent down to investigate. A pressure plate, still functional. Fishing out one of her daggers, she fiddled with the edge of the plate, finding the switch to lock it into place while Tamlen watched her work. Finally it clicked and she stepped back, picking up a piece of rubble and tossing it onto the plate for good measure. Yep it stayed alright. For all his bravado so far, Tamlen had a look upon his face that spoke lengths of how he was feeling as Aria looked back at him to tell him it was safe to proceed. “You okay?” He shrugged, shaking his head. “This place makes me nervous. It’s strange, I don’t understand why this place is even here, or why that statue that depicts who I believe is the Friend of the Dead, would be in this place.” He looked at her curiously as he spoke. “You know, I thought you were supposed to be assisting Master Ilen today? Why did you decide to come with me? It’s long past time we should have been back from hunting.”

Aria smiled and reached out a hand to caress his cheek. “Because I wanted to come with you. No one could have held me back.” His smile mirrored hers as he leaned his face into her hand. “I thought that might be the case. I’m glad. I thought maybe after earlier-” She cut him off by moving her finger across his lips. “We can talk more on that later. Let’s just find what’s here and get out.” She gestured to the door the trapped plate was protecting. “After you.” 

They proceeded through the door to enter more hallway, these now lined with sarcophagi. That was eerie to say the least and they walked though on their way, constantly feeling like something was watching them. As they reached another door, a growl sounded behind them, and to their horror, a corpse was climbing out of its bed, and another, and another. Arrows weren’t going to do any good here, so Aria drew her daggers, ready to fight the oncoming undead next to Tamlen, who had his shield out and his sword ready. 

The corpses were so far decayed that Aria had no clue if they might have been elven or human. The residual bits of armor that hadn’t rotted away with the flesh weren’t very telling of their origin, and while she knew that elves tended to have larger eyes and more slender frames than the shems, it was still a mystery as to who these skeletons might have belonged to. She didn’t have much time to contemplate it before they were upon them. She felt useless scratching at the bones, and Tamlen wasn’t having much better luck. He shoved one away with his shield and she saw bone crumble to dust as she glanced over. “Smash them!” she cried out, and did her best to keep them distracted while he did great work with his shield. Oh how she wished they had a hammer perhaps. 

Her opponent had the upper hand with a longer weapon, and it got through her defense, leaving a long cut on her arm. She gasped in pain, backing away and almost falling into Tamlen, who luckily had smashed his skeletons into oblivion and had turned to focus on hers. As he finished off the corpse, Aria dug in her hunting bag to grab a roll of cloth to wrap around her wounded arm. Tamlen turned to her, dropping his weapon and getting to his knees to help her. “Aria I’m sorry. I - I didn’t mean for you to get hurt down here. I didn’t expect it to be haunted!” She gave him a small smile. “I’ll be fine Tamlen, let’s just see what those things were guarding.”

He helped her up once more, grabbing his weapons as they approached the next door. She peered around, making sure there the door was safe to open, and swung it in with ease as if it had been freshly oiled. The first thing that caught her attention in the room was a large mirror at the other end of the room on a raised platform. The second was a large snarling bear that was approaching rapidly. It wasn’t just any bear either, there was something twisted about it, almost as if it was demonic as large bone like spikes grew from it’s pelt. Blood dripped from these spikes, and flesh seemed like it had been flayed off in places. The worst part about it was the smell, and when it roared at them, the scent was near nauseating. 

Aria dropped her daggers now, knowing she could not get into such close range with this creature, and drew her bow as Tamlen yelled to get it’s attention as he rushed forward to meet it head on. She loosed arrow after arrow into the beast and nothing seemed to slow it, even as Tamlen made it bleed more so than it already was. When the creature knocked down Tamlen and swiped with those massive claws, Aria felt her heart jump in her throat, knowing that his shield would not last long against those blows. 

She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, and aimed carefully. “Hey ugly!” she shouted, a snarl upon her face. “Bellanaris Din'an Heem.” Her voice was laced with venom, and anyone around her would say they got a chill from the anger residing in that tone. The arrow flew true, striking the beast through the eye and into the skull. It roared in pain and she nocked another arrow, letting it fly into the beast’s open maw, silencing it for good as the shaft protruded from the back of its head. 

She dropped her bow to run to Tamlen’s side, who had gotten over the initial rush and fear shone in his eyes. “By the Creators, what was that thing?” he gasped out, and she had no answer for him. “Perhaps that was the demon the humans spoke of. I don’t fault them for running anymore.” He shook his head as she helped him to his feet. “Nor do I. That thing was just … wrong.”

The pair turned their attention to the mirror. That had to be what that thing was guarding, and there was no doubt there was value to it. It was huge, intricate filigree and writing etched along the frame, more elvhen by the looks of it. Two huge statues stood to either side, each holding a sword in one hand, and holding the frame in the other. They looked to be human but to the keen elf’s eyes, Aria noticed that the ears had been chipped down to rounded shape, removing the long points. The mirror itself had an almost watery appearance, and as the two elves approached, they could not see their own reflections in the glass. 

“It’s beautiful. I wonder what the writing says.” Tamlen mused out loud as they drew closed. Aria smirked. “Perhaps it says do not touch the glass, that would explain why it looks so clean.” The male elf laughed at her. “Yes indeed, not a single smudge or crack after how many years?” He looked at it closer and excitement bubbled forth. “Did you see that? I think something moved inside the mirror!” Aria though was starting to have doubts. “Tamlen, I think we should leave it alone. It’s old and powerful, who knows what it can do? It scares me a little. I think we should go get the Keeper. Let her and her magic inspect it, neither of us know anything about that, even Merrill would be better to look at it.” 

Her words seemed to fall on deaf ears. “Hold on, I just want to see. There it is again! Didn’t you see it?” Aria did see some sort of movement like a ripple across the surface, and she reached out to hold Tamlen back as he got closer. “Can you feel that? I think it knows we’re here. I just need to take a closer look…” Aria let him go frowning, her voice holding a bit of worry. “Tamlen please, you don’t need to see it right now, let’s go, something about it gives me a bad feeling.” She wasn’t letting him go up there alone though, and her steps matched his as they approached the glass. To her, it looked like water, an endless sea. To him though, he was squinting, obviously seeing something she could not. “I can see some sort of city, it looks like it's underground. The architecture, it almost seems to match this place.” His hand reached out to touch the mirror, ripples extending from his touch. 

“Please Tamlen, let’s go.” There was something very wrong about this place, about that mirror, she felt darkness around them and while she had never really been afraid of caves or the dark, she felt like everything was closing in on her. His words echoed what she could feel. “There’s a great blackness…” Her fear seemed to be contagious as now his voice was edged in fear. “It - it saw me! Help! I can’t look away!” He yelled out, and she grabbed for him, reaching for his shoulders to pull him away. She was right, this thing was wrong! As she reached out, a bright light flashed from the mirror, and they were tossed backwards. Strange echoing voices dug their claws into her head, a guttural sound she did not recognize, as the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elven Translations  
> Shem/Shemlen: The original name elves use for the human race; continues to see use as a slang term amongst the City Elves ("shems") even though its meaning has largely been lost; literally "quick children".  
> Dirthara: Learn  
> Ma serannas: My thanks/Thank you.  
> Vallaslin: Blood writing; The art of tattooing adopted by some elves to more prominently display their worship of the traditional elven pantheon.  
> Nuva ar: May I/Wish I  
> Da’len: Little child; little one.  
> Hahren: Elder; used as a term of respect by the Dalish as well as by city elves for the leader of an alienage.  
> Falon’Din enasal enaste: A prayer for the dead.  
> Arlathan: The major city of Elvhenan, original homeland of the elves; from the phrase "ar lath’an" meaning, "This place of love"  
> Bellanaris Din'an Heem: "Make you dead."


	3. Duel

Estelle stood in the study, waiting for her father to return. Bookshelves dotted the room, filled with tomes and some kick knacks, trophies and gifts, items of significance. A large window filtered in light, the curtains worn but clean. All in all, it was a very professional looking room, one that meetings might be held, or important decisions discussed. The pair of them had been in the middle of a financial discussion when they had been interrupted by a page. He had announced the arrival of the men from the Dragon's Peak bannorn. Bann Sighard's son, Oswyn, was looking for a potential suitor. The teyrn's daughter was a prize to them, something irresistible that would make their standing look more important to the crown. Most of them only cared for the title she carried, so if it was a prize they wanted, it would be a prize they would win.

She went back to observing the ledger that was out on the desk, double checking numbers while she waited. Estelle was privy to the family's finances, and knew the ins and outs better than her brother. Numbers came easy to her, as did politics and formalities. Like now when the question arose on if new armor should be commissioned for the entire garrison or wait another year, Estelle was called in on these things for her opinion, and she was quick to run the numbers. She was raised to be a lady, even if she didn't always seem it. She didn't have to wait long before her father came back with a grin. "We have the practice field all set up. Many of the men have forgone their midday meals to watch this. Oswyn threw a bit of a fit but he armored up with little fuss. All we're waiting on is you." This was the game they played. Estelle was a grand fighter, and she reserved the right to challenge her suitors. Because many of them would not fight a woman, chivalry and all, the suitors were told they would be fighting her champion, and may see Lady Estelle after the match, and yes, that of course she would be watching the battle.

A lady wasn't supposed to be in full plate armor wielding a sword a shield. A lady was supposed to wear delicate dresses, armed with knitting needles and perhaps a splash of political armor. While she had long red hair, a beautiful face, and a supposedly perfect complexion, that wasn't Estelle. The real Estelle was ladylike in her lean form but with the hardened muscles like that of a laborer, with dark brown eyes that almost seemed red in the right light, all echoing the strength and determination etched her in features. She hated being portrayed as a weak woman, and ever since she was little, she found herself in the training yard watching her father's men go about their routine drills. Sitting on the sidelines she often managed to get her grubby little hands on the wooden practice swords, calling attention to herself whenever she did, giving the men a break from their routines. She had begged and begged to join them, but to no avail. Her older brother Fergus had always been an avid supporter of her, but even with his word, Teyrn Bryce Cousland would not budge.

It was her mother who had come to her aid. Eleanor, whom Estelle was named after, was raised on a warship, and she was a skilled raider. She never understood why her husband wished to have a womanly daughter, and she decided to teach her daughter in the arts of combat behind his back. Fergus joined in too as their mother was most skilled with a bow, and the two of them soon brought up Estelle as a battle maiden in her own right. It wasn't long before the Teyrn found out, and he conceded defeat, letting Estelle train with the rest of the men. He warned her that just because she was a woman, that no one would go easy on her. That was just fine with her, she didn't want them to do so.

Knowing her mother's reputation as the Seawolf, the men would never underestimate Estelle, pushing her to be better. She put long hours into training, the soldiers taking turns giving her new battle strategies to learn, different opponents to face, challenging her every step of the way. It was a rocky slope for her, but she climbed to the top in skill, easily becoming one of the best at the estate. She was one of them, respected, and beloved. Second to the heir of the Cousland name, and every man would stand with her. Indeed, they often seemed more keen to follower her than even her brother. It came as no surprise to any of them, that she chose herself as her champion, and fought for her own hand in marriage. She could just tell her suitors no, but it was more fun this way, not just for her but for everyone in the household.

Her mother was who came in soon after her father. Her mother may have grey hair and age showing in her features, but she was clearly battle worn and hardened, looking just as fierce in her dresses as in her leathers. In fact, Estelle was a stark contrast to her entire family, most of them preferring the lighter armors compared to her heavy warrior plate. Her mother now fussed over Estelle's hair, pinning it up to fit under her helmet. Estelle always said she could do it, but she gave up fighting her mother long ago and learned just to let her fuss. She would just keep it long if it wasn't for the fact that a soldier had once yanked it to drag her off balance, so now every strand was pinned into place once that lesson was learned. A little bit of the makeup paint was applied, nothing that would get too ruined in sweat, but it would enhance her beauty when the big reveal came, all part of the game they played. Once her sister-in-law Oriana had compared their antics to the game the nobles of Orlais would play. Her brother came in hefting her chest plate, while a few other men were carrying various other pieces. She also kept arguing that she could do that too, but the family would have none of it, so she always gave in with a sigh. Besides, she might have had difficulty on her own. Bulky armor such as hers almost always required another set of hands.

Once armored, she stepped towards the courtyard, her armor clanking. Next to her, Fergus was going over what he knew. He talked, his dark brown hair bobbing around his head in a bit of a mess, hints of red showing that the color ran in the family. It always astounded Estelle where the stout man got his information. Apparently, Oswyn liked to dual wield both a long sword and usually a dagger. He was sly, and had been known to use some dirty tactics to immobilize his opponents. Estelle's full plate armor would likely protect her from the worst of it, but it wouldn't hurt to be cautious. As they walked, Fergus's son Oren came bouncing up dragging a shield, emblazoned with the Cousland sigil, a leafy branch mirrored to almost create a continuous wreath, on backdrop of blue. He was the splitting image of Fergus when they were children, with perhaps a more darker complexion betraying his Antvian heritage. His mother, was trying to rein the child in. She wore a dress, and was the standard of a lady that the suitors pictured, although it was more of the Antiva fashion contrasting her darker skin tone, which often stood out among the Fereldens, making sure everyone noticed her in a crowd. She too had a hint of red in her hair, although it was more of a strawberry blonde than the browns the rest of them had, surprisingly light for her Antivan heritage. In fact, it was because of those things that made her often play the part of Estelle, a wave and a smile, blowing a kiss for good luck, until Estelle pulled off her helmet. Another of the men brought up a long sword, which slipped into Estelle's hand with a familiar ease.

As she walked into the courtyard, she saw that unlike her, her opponent was dressed in leathers, and only had a cap covering his head, leaving his face exposed. He had the rugged look to him, looked like he hadn't shaved in a few days, and what hair she could see under the cap looked unkempt. He better not win this, because Estelle could not stand the idea of marrying someone who couldn't put any effort into their appearance. Not that it really mattered, she could theoretically still tell him no she won't marry him, it was just easier for the battles this way, she had never lost against the pompous men that asked for her hand.

She noticed he was going to be fast based on his armor and stance, but luckily for her, she was a lot smaller than most who wore her kind of armor, so she was bound to move a bit different, hopefully enough to throw off her suitor. She never forgot a face, and as such his would always remain with her, along with the countless others she had defeated before him, this time would be no different. She looked to the audience, giving her family a wave. Oriana waved back and blew a kiss which Estelle returned. Her father rolled his eyes, he found their charade amusing to say the least. Still, the lines in his face from age were etched with worry as they were every time. The graying man would hate to see his daughter hurt, and he often had to turn away from the duels to avoid saying something he shouldn't. In the first few, he shouted insults galore at her opponents, raising more than a few eyebrows, causing plenty of shocked gasps and a few laughs with his brawdy language.

A different face in the gathered audience did make her take pause, someone else she knew, but totally unexpected. It threw her off guard a bit to see him there, and she paused, wondering why he of all people was there.

King Cailan.

She had faced him once on the battlefield too, giving him the same treatment as she did every other man. Just because he was king did not mean she was going to lay down and sleep with him, the chances were even less so with him being married, she had virtues. It wasn't well known of his indiscretions with other woman, but his appearance on their doorstep one day confirmed it. He was the only one to have seen her for what she was, a noble warrior, fighting for herself with no champion. He had complimented her on the fact, something she took to heart, and he never underestimated her, in fact he was the only man she dueled that knew it was her right off the bat. If he wasn't married, she might have thought differently about challenging him, or perhaps even gone easy on him, even when the men grew wide eyed at the idea of her battling the king.

Cailan was handsome, and well she could do no better than a king. The fact he wasn't entirely loyal to his queen though, Estelle had often thought she might want to run a lover through if they were ever disloyal. Not that she had had any lovers previously. Her heart was her own, and at the rate she was going, no one would be good enough for her. Some thought her too stuck up and just as pompous as she claimed her suitors were, others said she was just toying with people and didn't have a heart. The rumor she heard the most lately though was that she preferred the company of women and no man would ever have a chance with her. Estelle herself didn't even know for sure where her feelings lie, but it was for sure not with anyone who thought her as a prize.

So lost in her thoughts, she almost missed Oswyn's approach, using her moment of distraction against her. She thought herself foolish and barely raised her shield in time to block his main blow, although his dagger scraped against her side. Luckily the armor was thick and he failed to wedge it between pieces. She had to get her head in the game, throwing her thoughts of the king and suitors and love to the wind. As for the reason for the kings visit, was likely some sort of important business, as her father was one of two Teyrns of the land, directly beneath the royal family in power. Yeah, that had to be it. Nothing to concern herself with right? He couldn't possibly want another duel form her, or so she hoped. All thoughts of Cailen were banished when he swung at her again, but this time, there was no hesitation, meeting his attacks head on with the perfect defense.

Her opponent was surprisingly left hand dominant, and led with the longer weapon on the side she didn't have her shield. That's where he might trip her up, so she had to be careful. Now that his initial rush had passed, she could tell he too was a bit unnerved by their royal guest. Good. She could use that. She kept an eye on the king, placing him behind her as she circled. Oswyn would have to face him, always on the edge of his vision. Sometimes you had to play dirty to win, a trick Oswyn himself knew as he kicked up some sand towards her face. The visor stopped most of it, but a few grains got in, causing her to blink, and barely raising her shield in time against his attack. Damn it all. She was looking like a fool today. That leg moved again, not to kick sand, but to kick at her, catching in one of the bends of her armor. His foot was gonna hurt she imagined as his boots didn't look very thick. Still, she winced, her hips probably bruised from the metal plates being slammed against her side.

She needed to end this quick. She swung her sword, feigning a swing to move his weapons to his left to block. He fell for it, which made her believe that he didn't have a lot of experience fighting shield users. The shield was just as much a weapon as the sword, as she suddenly rammed it forward, bashing it into his now unprotected side. His eyes widened in surprise as he tumbled down like a sack of potatoes, a bit of a cheer going up among those assembled. Some people might let the cheer go to their heads, but not Estelle, as the cheering was on the outside of the arena, and her mind was firmly inside the courtyard. Just because he was down though, didn't count him out of the fight. He would learn to expect her shield attacks if she had to do it again, so she had to take advantage of the fact he was down now.

Estelle approached, her metal boots aiming to kick away his weapons, crush his hands if needed too. She did manage to remove his rapier, but was unprepared for the fury behind him as he lunged for her leg, tackling it and bringing her crashing down with it, her armor clanging as she fell. Andraste's ass! He was trying to disarm her now. She dropped her sword and used her gloved hand to grab at his arm, hoping to stop that dagger from digging in anywhere unpleasant. She was going to struggle getting him off so instead, she did the next best thing. She rolled.

Perhaps he didn't think someone in full plate could have any maneuverability once on the ground, because he seemed unprepared for this, fighting to get out of her grasp as she now had him pinned to the ground, the weight of her armor probably rather uncomfortable against his lighter set. He couldn't move, his weapon arm now pinned, and he seemed to have realized he had lost. She wanted to ask him to yield, just be done with it already, but she wasn't giving away her voice just yet. He spat in her face, and she crushed one of his hands, hearing the crunch of bone as he whined. They both sat there, the tension growing like their ragged breaths, until finally, he spoke after what felt like eons.

"I yield." A cheer again rose from those assembled, and Estelle slowly stood, reaching down a hand to Oswyn. He took it, pulling himself up. It was then she realized how sore of a loser her was. His dagger was still in hand as she saw the light glint off it, a moment later it protruded from a gap in her armor, and she gasped in pain and surprise. She looked down at the dagger that stuck in her side, and back at him, and growled. "That doesn't count!"

He seemed confused at her words. While her growl wasn't super feminine, her voice sure was, and she ripped off her helmet so he could see who he really stabbed. "You two faced bastard." she swore, and slapped him across the face, her plate glove still on. That was going to sting, not that she cared at this point. A few family members were running over to her, along with the manor's circle mage on retainer for healing. Oswyn stumbled backwards as Estelle pulled the dagger out, tossing the blade that was now red with blood at him. Her mother was fretting, and trying to unbuckle the bits of armor so they could get to the wound.

"Why do you put yourself in danger?" her opponent asked weakly, and she ignored it. Luckily her wound wasn't as deep as it could be, but it sure was a nasty bleeder, especially when it had already started to fester, a sign that the blade was poisoned. What a rotten spoiled brat, she was going to remember this for a long time. The mage was able to heal it up fine, although it looked like it might leave a scar under all that blood. It wouldn't be the first time a suitor had wounded her, let alone her first scar from it, and she doubted it would be the last. Still, she was happy she had gotten him back. His hand, and even with healing, it would be a while before he could use it to full strength again, he'd likely have one hell of a shiner from her slap to the face as well. Serves him right.

She strode over to his father, and bowed. "I regret to inform you that your son and I will not be wed. It is not wise of someone of my position to marry someone so dishonorable, and if he cannot beat me, I have no way of knowing if he would be able to protect our people if the time came. Good day ser." She spoke respectfully and with authority, the years of political training showing in her voice and stance. She possibly could have done better though, she barely held back the venom in her voice at the idea that poisoned blades had gotten past everyone. He nodded back at her. "As it should be." Turning, he walked over to his son who had just finished up with the healer, and the two engaged in conversation while she looked over again at the king.

He was approaching now, a smile on his face. She could admit she was a sucker for blondes, and his hair was a beautiful gold. His eyes too a stunning gold brown, and she had to be careful not to lose herself in them. He was handsome, a perfect image of a perfect king. Still, she wouldn't let herself go weak in the knees around him like she did the first time he came around. She overcame that when she overcame him in battle. She bowed to him, unable to curtsy in her armor, even if it was already half removed for the healer. "Your Majesty." He inclined his head to her, "Estelle. A beautiful battle as always." His voice held nothing but pride. He had been a sore loser at first, but seeing that she defeated man after man, that was sure to lessen anyone's poor feelings over a loss, even if he was the king.

Her father and mother set down the armor pieces they had been busy with, and gave their greetings to the king. "What brings you here Your Majesty?" her father spoke. It was almost amusing to Estelle that the grey haired Teyrn was able to talk to the young king as an equal, even with respect while some of the other Banns would talk down to the younger man, often a mistake they regretted. Cailan's smile that he wore during the duel disappeared and was replaced with a strained expression. "Ahh unfortunately I'm here strictly on business. I'm travelling through the region on my way back to Denerim, and summoning some men to join the armies to fight at Ostagar. The Grey Wardens assure me that's where a darkspawn attack will occur. I would have sent a message but I was passing through anyway."

Knowing that the guys would likely keep talking battle plans for a while, Estelle got her mother's attention as she gathered up some armor pieces. "Excuse us Your Majesty." they both said as they were dismissed. Now that they were out of range of nobility, Estelle could relax, and she casually strolled to her room, the two of them carrying the clanking armor pieces, and laughing with the men they encountered over the duel and how thoroughly Estelle beat Oswyn. It was satisfying to beat yet another suitor. Of course this caused problems at times. Everyone, including herself, was worried she would never find someone to settle down with, or if she did, it would be a ferocious warrior who was nothing but crazy and unfit for her hand in marriage. There was also the fact that she ruined some people's reputations, or angered them in her victory over them, which could ruin relations between families. Luckily the grudges never seemed to last for long.

For now, Estelle was content with the way she did things. Perhaps someday she would drop the need for a duel, perhaps even marry for love, but for now, she was fine with not being tied down to anyone. She wasn't the first of the Cousland heirs, nor did the family need to marry for any alliances. They were well loved and respected, and she was by no means ready to settle down. If she was being honest, she wanted to travel and see Ferelden, at most she had seen as far to the east as Denerim, when their family visited their estate in the capital. She almost had the opportunity to visit the other Teyrn's city of Gwaren, but the trip got cancelled due to a heavy snow storm.

Once the ladies reached Estelle's room, they devolved into a fit of giggles as was customary. "Did you see the look on his face?" "The look on his face? I think he pissed himself!" Her mother was her best friend, and the gossip they talked of after the duels she had with suitors were always enjoyable. They also would speak on strategy, what worked well and what didn't, where to improve for next time. Eleanor assisted in removing the last of the armor so that Estelle could dress in more comfortable clothing. As was routine, she sat in a chair while her mother sat on the edge of the bed, a brush in hand to tease out the tangles that somehow always occur even when her hair was tied up, while she sat and polished armor pieces in her lap. She would have to hammer out some of the dings from their tumble on the ground, but luckily it wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed.

"Glad he couldn't beat you. He seemed a little too cocky." her mother said as she removed the ribbons holding up those red tresses, letting them cascade down so she could attack with the brush. Estelle giggled, always loving when her mother would put down her suitors. Another part of their ritual that would never get old. They would share their evening meal in the room, making faces and having a grand old time just the two of them. Sometimes they'd tell stories, Estelle would make some up while Eleanor would tell tails when she was a raider on the savage seas, sometimes changing her tales to make her daughter the hero of the story, or the two of them weaving new stories together.

As if on cue, a servant knocked at the door, and once given permission to enter, brought in a tray of food. A bit of roast pheasant, and seasonal fruit adorned the tray, and the black haired elf that bore it bowed as she played it at the table. Seren was her name, and she was used to this task. She was one of the few that were allowed to enter Estelle's room, as she liked to keep herself private. Indeed, the first few times Seren had come in, she was thrown off by how simple it was. She had asked once why the bed wasn't four poster like in her family's rooms, and Estelle had shrugged and said that wasn't her. In fact, Estelle and the elf had grown rather close, one of the few true friends she could claim to have. Sure she was loved and respected, she had plenty of battle partners, but the daughter of a teyrn was a scary beast, and plenty of those in the keep left distance between them in a personal matter. Seren on the other hand, was granted permission to join them for their evening meals, and she often added her own tales to the mix. Estelle loved hearing the stories that were passed down to the elf. While she had never lived outside a city, some of the stories of the Dalish and the elven gods were so mythical that it was a wonder to the young noble why the elves hadn't simply run away to experience the wonders of their ancestors.

The day was getting late though, and soon her mother and Seren bid her a good night. Estelle was a bit of a night owl though, so while the rest of the family tended to head off to bed when the sun went down, she would usually run through a small candle in the evenings as she would read to herself in the silence. At first when she started doing so, she was scolded for the waste, but in the end, she was allowed that courtesy, it wasn't like the family was broke or anything, more like her family liked to playfully tease about whatever they could.

She loved to read about anything and everything, stories from the Circle of Magi, a few tales from the dwarves of Orzammar, the generic fantasy stories of knights and legends, along with family history and other similar tales. Tonight though, she was ecstatic to return to a small notebook her brother had purchased for her on his latest trip to the capital. The cover had an intricate painting of some strange symbol, and the inside was of a foreign text. It was the only book she had gotten her hands of that was from the elves. With it being in elven though, it was hard to decipher, even though she did know a few phrases, and had a small booklet of some elven phrases, she knew she would never understand it all unless she met a real elf. And not any of those city dwellers either, most of them had lost their language. Unfortunately, meeting one of the Dalish as they called themselves, was unlikely. Even Saren could admit she had never seen one of the "wild elves" in person before, only heard rumors of a few sometimes coming to the alienage where she was born.

With a start, an idea came to mind. The king was here to ask her father and his men to fight at Ostagar right? If she knew her geography as well as she thought she did, Ostagar was near the Korcari Wilds. It was said that there was a clan of the Dalish living in that wilderness, perhaps she could convince father to take her with! Sure it was bound to be dangerous, there were so many legends and tales of the Wilds, including the infamous tales of the Witch of the Wilds, but danger be damned wouldn't it be so cool to actually meet one of the Dalish? She wanted to go to her father right then and there, beg him to let her go with, but she knew the hour was late and she'd have better luck in the morning.

With that, the Teryn's youngest child got herself ready for the night, changing into her nightgown and putting away the books she had intended to work on. She was eager for morning to come, and she jumped into bed. As she blew out the candle, she knew as luck would have it, her excitement would keep her awake and morning would not come as fast as she would like. She found herself relighting the candle and tearing open her books again, until exhaustion overcame her and she finally drifted off to sleep.


	4. Studious

The tower was quiet today. Sure one could hear the echoes of the church bells in the halls, but they were so customary that they were often tuned out. At the moment, no classes were in session, no Harrowings were being performed. Most of the mages were allowed time to themselves today, a way to keep them complacent while the templars were short staffed. Templars often ruled the Circle of Magi with an iron fist, but today a good chunk of them were off chasing an escaped mage. The fool had done this multiple times before, and it was a wonder the idiot hadn't been made tranquil yet. Probably because he was very strongly against blood magic, so the circle was convinced they could still use him. A pity. He inspired hope among the mages that someday they might be free. Then again, that's probably why he was allowed his free will. The templars always caught him, proving escape was inevitable.

Damien shook his head, not wanting to think on it anymore. Like most living in the tower, he was thin and pale, rarely ever having gone outside or done anything more strenuous than carry a stack of books up and down some stairs. His hair was a light golden brown, it would likely have a more blonde sheen to it if it saw the sunlight, and was pulled back in braids to keep it out of his face. His eyes were a grey that occasionally had hints of green, and one of the few defining features to him was a tattoo on the right side of his face. He acquired it from one of the other mages who had been talented before he had been caught and forced to the circle. Damien had spent most of his life in captivity though, having shown magical talent when he was seven, and the templars who discovered this were soon shipping him off to this hell hole. That was fifteen years ago now, and perhaps the reason he hated Anders, the escapee mage, was that he had seen so much more of the outside world. Perhaps Damien was jealous, although he'd deny it if asked.

He was leaning against a wall, book in hand, trying to study. His apprenticeship was pretty much over, they had taught him all they thought he needed to know. Rumors abound that his Harrowing was going to take place once the templars returned from the chase they were being sent on. A letter had come that morning stating Anders had been caught, and with luck they should be back within a week. That left little time to prepare and he was not going to waste it, instead he used his time reading about the Fade and what demons he might encounter to best know how to proceed. No one knew exactly what happened during a Harrowing, as any mage who survived it was forbidden to speak about it. Still, it was suspected to have something to do with the Fade, and as such, certain books were sought after for apprentices trying to prepare.

A dark haired mage set down a chessboard at a nearby table. "Come on then. You have plenty of time to read, how about a game? Or because you're almost done being an apprentice you have no more time for me?" Damien rolled his eyes. "I suppose I have time for you old friend." They had been raised together, both sent to the circle while young and the two were almost inseparable. While Jowan had been in the circle a year or two longer than Damien, he had yet to be tested with his Harrowing, and the fact one of his only friends was getting to do so before him was clearly hard to handle. He put down his book and strode over to the table, it was the least he could do after all.

"I'll let you have white." Damien said with a cocky attitude in his voice. Living here for so long he had lost most of the accent in his voice, not that there was much of one to begin with. He was from the Free Marches, all four of his siblings also having been found to have magical tendencies, and all sent to different circles across the world. It was frowned upon to put relatives together in the same circle, and many suspected it was due to the fact that without anyone they knew, the mages would supposedly be more complacent. Anders was one instance that proved it wrong, as he knew no one here in the circle, and no one even knew his real name, just calling him The Ander as he was from the Anderfells, and the name eventually stuck to what it was now. It was no small wonder the man hadn't been branded a malificar yet, probably only due to his amazing ability with healing.

Jowan made his move and the game began. They didn't get too far into it though before some of the mages were dashing to the table with a deck of cards, all hoping to be the elusive winner. It was amazing what a little trinket could do, turning these people into a pack of wild animals. The templars would bring in little things of the outside world, often harmless items like a small statuette, or a piece of jewelry, perhaps even a wheel of cheese from across the land, just something different for these poor sods, and many of them went crazy for them. Damien couldn't blame them. They rarely had anything to call their own here, and something from the outside world was like a dream. Mostly it was the apprentices who got excited over these things, but now and then even the senior enchanters who had seen far too many years in the tower without leave would play for the items. It wasn't that the older members of the circle couldn't leave, it just that they could only leave under certain circumstances, usually under guard. Just a taste of freedom was something many longed for.

"I'm going to get out of here someday." Jowan said with conviction. He moved his piece and their gamed resumed. "Oh yeah? What makes you think that?" Damien moved his after a moment's thought. "Haven't you ever thought about running away? Try to escape?" There was longing in his voice which gave Damien pause. "You'd be a fool. They'd capture or kill you, just like they do to Anders and every other mage." Jowan scowled at him. "That's only because they have our phalactries! We destroy those and we can get out of here! They still have Anders' and with that they can track him, but they store all of the apprentice's here in the tower. We could take ours and be free men!"

There was a pause. Normally such thoughts weren't safe to voice out loud, but with the group playing cards not too terribly far away, it would be doubtful they would be overheard. Damien would be lying if he said he hadn't thought of it. His family, the Amell family, would surely try to hide him, they had fought to keep their children from being taken as it was. They had an estate, money, or so he thought. It had been years since the letters stopped coming. Then there was the fact that he was a man of the circle, he didn't know how to survive in the wild, book knowledge would only take you so far. He had very little coins, and his only defense would be his staff, a dead giveaway that he was a mage. Still, he had maybe a week while his phylactery was still here before it got shipped off to the capital where they were kept safer. It was ironic, that the little bottle of blood would be used to track them, when blood magic was frowned upon.

"I won't be labeled an apostate. I would not do well out there on my own, even the two of us would stand no chance unless we coerced some normal person to assist us. I'm so close to my Harrowing that I don't want to mess this up." Perhaps it was the wrong words to say, as Jowan angrily stood, pushing the chess board away. "Oh yes, go along with all my plans up until your Harrowing, and now you tell me they can't be done. What happened to all the times we talked about running away? Am I just to be left behind?" Without waiting for an answer, he walked away. Damien frowned, picking up a chess piece and knocking over another. So much for a game. He sighed, picking up the board and replacing the pieces in their bag before returning the game to the library where a few others were.

It never ceased to amaze Damien when he walked into the library. Books as far as the eye could see, shelves 12 feet tall reaching to the ceiling. The smell of paper and ink was strong here, and he inhaled deeply. Some grew accustomed to the library within weeks of being here, yet every time he walked in it was like the first time. Before he came to the circle, all he had seen was a small shelf housing maybe a dozen books at best. He could never grow tired of being here, as he loved to read and study.

As he put the board back where it belonged, his eyes caught movement down the row a bit, and he smiled, noticing who it was. "Ah ha, just the saucy little minx I needed." Being raised in the tower, most of the mages only really knew how to flirt from books. To them, they were the epitome of perfection with their lines, and most of them didn't know any better. This woman, however, was raised outside the tower, and had come here willingly. "Lethallin." She replied, even though her tone was tense.

Tallien was an elf, and one raised outside the cities at that. Elves were rare in the circles, her mind more so. Her face featured the tattoos of the Dalish, although she had never been open about the meaning behind them. Being one of the few elves in the circle, and the only Dalish on top of it, she was usually rather reclusive. Damien had once wooed her, and the two shared a few nights together. Over time though, she had grown distant from him once more.

She was putting a few books back on a shelf when Damien cut in front of her, blocking access. She frowned, and stepped back. An air of annoyance surrounded her, and she sighed audibly. "You know, I thought the Dalish were a patient folk." That earned him a glare as she continued to stand there. "What do you want?" she finally asked, her tone sharp.

Damien put his hands up in surrender. "No need to get huffy, I just thought perhaps you'd like some company." She huffed, shaking her head and then proceeding to squeeze around him to replace her books on the shelf. "The only company I want is my own, ma serannas." Sarcasm dripped like venom off her elven words and he backed away. "Alright alright, no need to be feisty. I'll leave you be." She spoke no more and he glanced at the books she had been putting back. Herbs and Poultices, 101 uses of Elfroot, Blood Lotus and You, Exotic Antidotes, Deathroot Poisons for the Soul, Spirit Healing. What was that elf up to? Damien turned away scratching his head. Had she run into some obscure disease? If that was the case, then she probably wouldn't be mingling with everyone else. No, he concluded that the elf was just reading up on various things for no other reason than she had access to the material. He had never claimed to understand her, none in the tower did in fact, so if she did odd things, it wasn't abnormal, just well odd.

Damien figured the best he could do with his time would be to grab a few more books on the Fade and go read. He was anxious, and stir crazy for sure, but he forced himself to relax in his bunk anyway. The apprentice quarters were crowded, and it was high time a few of them got their Harrowing and moved into the senior mage quarters. Not that they were really any less crowded or gave any more privacy. The tower could only hold so many mages, and none of them had their own rooms unless they were the First Enchanter. Still, the rooms were a bit more personal and private, they still shared a few beds to a room, but it was better than the apprentice quarters. Here there were bunk beds with a chest at either side, crammed together as full as they could manage. It was a nightmare really and Damien wondered if he would have been better off trying to find a quiet corner somewhere to read. Most of the apprentices were returning from losing at their game, and the quarters were starting to fill up. There was nothing really to do for a few more hours at least, when their weekly exercises were to be held. Damien hated those, and honestly didn't see the point. It's not like they ever did anything strenuous that required a reserve of stamina or flexibility.

As he laid back in bed, he propped his knees up and set the book against them, paging through it as he only casually glanced. It was one he had read before, and he grew bored of its contents. Beware demon possession, mark of an abomination, the Fade is the realm of dreams and even if non mages don't remember, they go there to dream as well. Blah blah must be taken seriously blah. He slammed the book closed with a grunt of frustration. He was never going to get anywhere as the nerves were creeping in. What if he failed? Apprentices were killed if they failed their Harrowing, was it really that bad? Would he be okay with dying? He was after all a prisoner here, perhaps death would be a preferable escape.

It wouldn't do any good to think like that, and he relaxed her legs to lay comfortably on his bunk, closing his eyes to meditate. It wasn't intended, but he drifted off to sleep, entering the realm of dreams. His eyes opened to view a house he barely remembered. His siblings played on the front lawn, still children like he last saw them as. Their mother was in the doorway, calling them to dinner. She had black hair and green eyes. She was getting old, lines etched into her features, wrinkles at the corner of eyes, things he had never noticed as a child. He knew it wasn't really his mother, the spirits of the fade were just trying to replicate the real world based on memories laid bare before them. Still, they did a convincing job as his family, and he let himself enjoy the ride even if he knew how this was going to end.

His siblings followed him inside as they raced to the table, the smell of poultry rising from the dishes laid out. Grubby hands were ordered to wash up and the fastest to finish got to grab a piece of the juicy meat first. They laughed and joked over their meal, their father still not home from the market, when a knocking at the door interrupted the jovial mood.

Their mother went to the door, opening it with a confused expression that turned to dread as templars were revealed in the doorway. They entered without permission, and their mother cried out to please not split up the family, they'd leave, do anything. Damien knew what would happen next but he couldn't help but sit in fear at the table as one of the men took her away into another room as a man in robes walked in. One by one the children were taken outside, asked to demonstrate their abilities, or forced to if they refused. And one by one they were taken to the wagon that waited by the road, where even more templars waited.

Damien was last to be pulled out for questioning, and when asked to show what he could do, he pouted. "I won't show you anything if you don't let them go." This caused the templars to laugh but the mage in front of him seemed sincere. "You know I'll do the best I can to help you." Damien tried to make a run for it, but his short legs took him nowhere fast, and the templars even in armor swiftly caught up to him. He panicked, and a burst of flame shot out from his hands as they reached for him. The last nail in the coffin, as they cut off his access to magic with their abilities, and loaded him into the wagon with the rest of his siblings. He could hear his mother crying as she ran to the door, and as she faded from view as the wagon rolled down the road, was when he woke up.

To that day Damien was convinced his father had turned them in. He had always been leery of magic, even though the Amell's had an affinity with it. He wasn't there that day, and they were more than prepared for a handful of young mages. He had never heard back from his father even though he had sent letters to the man, and his mother never mentioned him in any of hers. Perhaps he died was the theory Jowan had given him, but Damien wasn't too sure of it.

Bells were ringing again, signifying the hour and as he counted, he realized that it was high time to make his way to the Great Hall for the mandatory exercises. Oh how he loathed them. As he got up from his bed and made his way to the third floor, he couldn't help but think of why they were required to be inside now. It was all that Anders' fault. Everything seemed to be his fault now a days. The mage had foolishly tried to swim to shore when they were outside, and the templars couldn't follow until they got the row boat to the tower side due to their heavy armor. It was amusing to say in the least but now they weren't even allowed to go out on what little grounds there were out there. It was absolutely pathetic.

He shook away the last remnants of his dream and found himself standing in front of one of the various statues in the tower. This one was of a woman holding a shield in front of her. Some sort of Chantry symbol no doubt, although she held it with both hands at the top, not at all like one should hold a shield, and it covered most of her body, leaving her head exposed. Did women back in Andraste's time not know how to wield a shield? No that couldn't be the case, Andraste herself was said to be a warrior woman. Damien sometimes regretted not paying attention to the Chantry's teachings, those were the reason mages were locked up anyway wasn't it? The idea of learning it both intrigued and revulsed him, thus he never learned much more than the bare minimum.

He had to hurry along to make it to the great hall in time where the mages were spreading out, giving themselves enough room. There were plenty of groans of distaste that signaled that most of them also agreed with Damien's assessment of how unnecessary this was. A few templars were in the room, some even without their armor as they decided to exercise as well. It almost felt like they were bragging, how this came so easy to them, but no one spoke up about it.

Senior Enchanter Torrin stood at the front of the room leading the charge. He was one of the youngest Senior Enchanters the Ferelden circle had, possibly only beat by Leorah. He was a larger man, thick and robust, and there was no question as to why he never complained about the exercises. Rumor had it that before he became part of the circle, he was a hard working farmer. It sure would explain his build and ability to do some of the bends and twists that tied most everyone else up in knots.

Sweat beaded on Damien's face within short time as the Senior Enchanter called out the routine. "Reach for your toes! Hold, hold, come on your can reach further than that, okay and back up! That's it now! And squat!" His mind wandered to his conversation with Jowan earlier, as he saw the dark haired mage struggling just as much as him across the room. If they couldn't even do stretches without a struggle, how could they dream of surviving on the road?

After what felt like an eternity, Torrin finally called an end to the routine, and many of the mages simply sat on the floor or left the room for a nap. Templars got to work replacing the tables that had been moved, as shortly their evening meal was to be served. On the days they had to exercise, it seemed the cooks put more effort into the food, and Damien, if not the other mages, found it a welcome relief. Not that they had terrible bland food. On the contrary, he imagined they had nicer meals than many others due to funding the Chantry could afford. Perhaps it was another means of keeping them complacent. Some people were led around on a chain connected to their stomachs, so it wouldn't surprise Damien to hear it was another ploy to keep the mages from rebelling.

He doubted the Chantry would ever give them what they really wanted though. More and more mages wanted to escape, Jowan wasn't anyone special with talk like that. What was really scary were the rumors of blood magic in the tower, of mages who were willing to become abominations to escape their invisible chains. He knew the templars had heard the rumors too. While they had always looked at the mages suspiciously, now they tended to twitch at the simplest of magic, fingers itching to grab at sword hilts. As such, many of the mages had taken to leaving their staves in their rooms, no real need to carry them around unless they were actually using them for classes or some sort of studies.

Damien left the room for a while, intending to head back to the apprentice quarters, although he knew he was going to regret the extra trips up and down the stairs for evening meal. As he walked through the second floor, he noticed Tallien speaking with Leorah, something about requesting some herbs. Hmm, she was doing more than just casual reading then. He was tempted to stick his nose in her business when he decided against it, continuing on his way back down to the first floor. She was good at keeping secrets, and he suspected this was one of them. Probably some Dalish thing now that he thought about it. No one knew a lot about the Dalish, so it made sense.

Instead of going back to his bunk like he had originally intended, Damien found his feet leading him to the library once more. He stopped abruptly when he found himself face to face with Jowan. His friend grimaced a bit upon seeing him, so Damien tried to proceed to the shelves where he had seen Tallien standing before. As he grabbed for a few books, Jowan made his way over to him and wrung his hands, looking nervous. Damien glanced at him, then indicated the books. "Wanna help solve a mystery to pass the time?" Jowan's sigh of relief was audible as he took a few of the books from Damien's hands.

"Sorry about that. You were right." While it seemed like he could have gone on, Damien held up a hand to stop him. "I get it. No need to explain to me." He held up one of the books. "Besides, I'm bored and there's something about these books, Tallien, and a list of herbs that just has me itching to know what she was up to." Jowan's grin grew wide as he chuckled. "You'll never get over that girl will you?"

Damien's grin was just as wide. "Never."

*****

The mage's head swam as it dawned on him what was going on with the elf. Jowan's exclamation had gotten Damien's attention as he scurried over to the other side of the table they had what felt like a million books spread out on. They had spent a better part of the afternoon pouring over the books, stopping only for the evening meal, then resuming their study. It wasn't like they had anything better to do. The most exciting part was when the templars returned with Anders in tow. He was taken immediately to the Senior Enchanter, and many of the mages speculated what was going on behind closed doors. Damien and Jowan had agreed they'd learn when everyone else did so there was no use trying to eavesdrop.

Damien confirmed the list on the page Jowan was looking at contained everything he had overheard earlier, and compared it to the notes on the books he had noticed her carrying as well. "No way." He said, and Jowan couldn't help but laugh. "No wonder she's avoiding you!" Damien slumped back against a wall and sunk to the floor. He put his hands in his head. "How is that even possible? I thought we took every measure for that not to happen!"

"I don't know, maybe talk to her?" Jowan suggested with a shrug. Damien picked up his head to glare at him. "Oh really, and what am I supposed to say? Hey, I'm sorry you've got to kill the baby I put inside you so the templars don't take it. Yeah, that'll go over so well." Jowan stuttered over a few words before determining he didn't know what to say and just looked over at his friend feeling helpless.

Damien sighed and threw back his head. "She's never going to want to talk to me again. Every time I get close to anyone here I blow it. Except you of course. Why couldn't she just tell me?"

"Maybe because she knew it would hurt you? I've never had a kid but I can imagine it would be easier not knowing that something of your flesh and blood was you know, ended." Jowan tried to be helpful but it just made Damien feel more sour over the whole ordeal.

"The spell worked every other time, why didn't it this time though?" Damien could not get over the fact that the spells to prevent pregnancy had failed. Those spells were one of the worst kept secrets in the tower, helping to hide intimate acts from the templars. For one of those spells to fail, it would have to have been a miracle. To think, a child, against all odds. Perhaps it was fate? Not that Tallien would see it that way. The child would still get taken from them, and they'd never be heard from again. There was a story that Senior Enchanter Wynne had a child once, with a templar no less, and yet she never saw the child after she gave birth.

"I have to go to her, I have to try to stop her." He got to his feet, and strode out of the library, ignoring the warnings from Jowan that now might not be a good time. The other mage stayed behind though to start putting away books, wisely realizing that it probably wouldn't be best if anyone else were to be there for that conversation.

Tallien was right where Damien suspected she would be at that late an hour, in the apprentice's quarters. She was talking with a few friends and Damien stood behind them a ways, not too close to be considering intruding on their conversation, but close enough so that she would know he wished for her attention. It didn't take long for their conversation to end as she bade her friends good night. She looked over at him, keeping her expression neutral, even though the rest of her body was tense. "Yes?"

He didn't really know what to say now that he was here. "Uhh..." He reached to scratch at the back of his head, his face twisting in a grimace as he tried to figure out the right words to say. "Sooo herbs huh?" Yeah, real smooth.

"Yep." That was real useful.

"I uhh, did some reading.." he hesitated. Come on man, just spit it out already!

"And?" She didn't seem too keen on talking either.

"Annndddd..." He dragged out the word, inhaling deep then spitting out the next words quickly with his exhale. "And I know what they're for and please don't do it!" There, he said it, he bit his lip nervously as he watched her. For the most part, she stayed composed, keeping her expression level but her body betrayed her with a slight tremble.

"You don't know what you're asking..." She spoke softly, and looked down, staring at her hands. He got down to his knees and grabbed her hands in his, looking up into her eyes. "Then please explain to me why you'd want to do this to a miracle child that is defying the odds to even be possible."

She turned away from him, but didn't pull her hands from his, that was a good sign right?

She hesitated, staying silent for a while, and when she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. "My people, they frown upon it. The child would be human, no trace of its heritage. Neither of us would get to know the child, and while I came here voluntarily, I realize that this is not a fate I'd wish on anyone who didn't choose it. It would know nothing else. I miss the trees, I don't want a child growing up not knowing the feel of the sun on its face, listening to the wind through the leaves, sitting before a tranquil lake. Even if the child isn't an elf, it would still be the child of an elf, and I would not let an elf child live in a cage without making the choice I did, they deserve to be free."

She made valid points, and she sighed, knowing he won't be able to change her mind. "Alright. In the end, it's your decision. I just-" He stood, letting go of her hands as he headed to his bunk. He didn't know what he was going to say, and just left it at that. He stopped when he heard her say his name, but didn't turn, and instead thought that the apprentice quarters was just not the place to be right then.

Jowan had finished putting away the books by the time he returned, and was nowhere to be seen. Most everyone else was headed to bed for the night, but Damien just needed to be alone. Grabbing a book on the Fade, he sat down in a chair to read, dozing off with his head in his hand. Thinking that this day couldn't get any stranger, a pair of templars walked in. Shaking him awake he blinked at them wearily, confused. As he was brought to his feet, one of them spoke. "You've been summoned for your Harrowing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elven Translations  
> Lethallin: Casual reference used for someone with whom one is familiar; generally, lethallin is used for males while lethallan is used for females.  
> Ma serannas: My thanks./Thank you.


	5. Illness

"Can you hear me?" A strange voice reached Aria's ears, and she blinked open. The world was fuzzy, she couldn't make out much. She had no clue where she was but all she could guess was outside, there was a lot of green. A strange man was hovered over her, dark skin, and even darker hair and beard. A beard, a shem! "I am very sorry." he continued but she was so weak, it trailed off as her eyes closed again, and she was unconscious once more.

In her mind's eye, she saw herself as if from an outsider's view. She was years younger, on one of her first hunts. She had been so sure of herself and went off on her own, but she wasn't prepared for the wolves that scented the deer she had felled. She managed to kill one, and chase the rest off, but they had injured her, long gashes ripped through her armor from claws. As she limped her way back to camp, Tamlen came out of the bushes, clearly having been tracking her. He looked angry, and Aria had been worried he was mad at her for being foolish. Instead, he was angry at himself for getting too far behind. He vowed he would never let this happen to her again, that he was her protector. She laughed at the sentiment, finding it funny he thought she would stay out of trouble even if he intervened. He was usually the one to drag them both into shenanigans that landed them a scolding. Still, it was sweet, and at that moment, she remembered she had felt that he might be the one for her someday, if they could ever get over their shyness around each other.

When she awoke once more, she found herself on a bed of furs. She blinked away the sunlight, and she just felt off. Her dream had felt so real and peaceful, but now ... she felt unclean, weak. She could have sworn there was a whisper in the back of her head, but every time she tried to listen, it went away. Her movements felt sluggish, as she moved her head a bit, turning from the bright light. Everything hurt and she felt the faint chill of a fever. Confusion crinkled her face, unsure as to how she managed to get sick, as she tried to remember what had happened to land her here.

It was then it hit her, the memories of the cave returned. "Tamlen!" she called out in a panic, swiftly sitting up to look around for him, and then falling when a wave of dizziness came over her. Her actions alerted another of the clan who was standing by. Fenarel rushed to her side, helping her to sit up.

"You're awake! Careful now lethallan, take it easy. You've the god's own luck Aria. Everyone is worried sick about you." He noticed her eyeing up his waterskin, and he brought it to her lips to help her to sip at it. She would have done it on her own but she noticed she was shaking profusely and would have probably dropped it. "How do you feel?" he asked once she had gotten her fill. He was worried for her, it was etched into his face and she didn't know if the truth would make him feel any better.

The lie came easy to her. "I'll be okay, I'm sure I look worse than I feel. I'm worried though. Where's Tamlen?" The look on his face was enough to tell her that the news wasn't good. "We don't know. The shem that brought you here saw no sign of him." No, Tamlen couldn't be gone. She looked down to the ring on her finger, twisting it with worry. "We have to find him." She said, her voice shaky, so unlike her. Fenarel didn't know what to say, keeping silent. "So what shem were you talking about?" While she was worried for Tamlen, she needed to know the full story. At least now Fenarel seemed willing to talk as his face lightened. "A shem brought you here two days ago, do you remember him?" Her eyes grew wide at that statement. "I've been here for two days?! Who was this man?" Strength seemed to grow within her finally as the shock of the events that happened filled her with vigor. She had to find Tamlen! She tried to stand, and with the blonde elf's help, she managed to get her feet under her. "Careful lethallan. The shem was a Grey Warden. He appeared out of nowhere with you slung over his shoulder. He's definitely stronger than he looks. You were delirious with fever. He mentioned he found you outside a cave in the forest, unconscious and alone. He left you here and then left again, no one really bothered to go looking for him, and the Keeper has been using some old magic to heal you."

Aria's face twisted in pain as she grimaced, something affecting her to the point she thought she was going to vomit, before it passed. "And has anyone been looking for Tamlen? I'm not the only one who matters here." Fenarel seemed nervous and refused to let her stand on her own. "Of course! Most of the hunters are out looking for him now. Anything you remember might be able to help. Let me get the Keeper, she wanted to see you as soon as you were awake. Can you stand on your own?" Aria nodded, and he gently released her. She swayed a little, but managed to keep her balance as he dashed off.

Aria couldn't stay standing alone for too long though, and she took a few steps towards a nearby tree to lean against it. Why did she feel so sick? Was it that bear thing they found? It did seem to be diseased or something. Her skin was pale and her veins stood out darkly. She wasn't crazy about the feeling of fever. There was something unnatural going on and she didn't like it. She could only imagine how Tamlen might be feeling if he was out there, alone, without the healing she had been receiving. The thoughts made her reel. He had to be okay, he was always the stronger of the two, he just had to.

Fenrael soon returned with Marethari in tow. The elder elf also had lines of worry, but seeing Aria conscious seemed to smooth them over to some extent. "I am glad to see you are awake da'len. I had feared the worst. It is fortunate that Duncan found you when he did. I know not what dark power held you, but it nearly bled the life from you. It was difficult for even my magic to to keep you alive." Her words were soft, and she seemed strained, likely from the magic use she needed to heal Aria. The words hit like being run over with one of the avavels and she was glad to be leaning against the tree. What did they run across in those caves? Bewilderment spread across her face to be swiftly replaced with worry. "Tamlen is probably sick too then. We have to find him before it's too late!"

The Keeper's face was crestfallen. "Yes if he encountered the same thing as you, he could very well be in trouble. Duncan only found you alone though, and suspected you encountered darkspawn creatures inside the cave he said he found you in front of. Do you remember if that's true?" Aria didn't know what a darkspawn was and she frowned. "I'm not sure. What does a darkspawn look like?" She was confused, and didn't know what this had to do with anything, or how or even why a shem would be the one to rescue her if the story was true. "They usually look like a man, but they're dark beings, tainted with evil." Aria thought back on the cave and what they had found inside. "The only things we fought were some creatures, some sort of bear and giant spiders, and some reanimated corpses." The keeper's eye brows rose in surprise as she looked a little harder at Aria. "Walking corpses you say? Dark magic indeed but not darkspawn. I do not know if the other creatures could be darkspawn. Still, what else do you remember?"

Aria frowned, it was fuzzy, but it was coming back to her like still portraits. "There was a large mirror. Tamlen saw something in it. He touched it, there was a flash of light, and then nothing. Did you find a mirror?" The keeper looked confused, it was clear she did not know what Aria was talking about. "I have never heard of a mirror doing anything like that in all the lore we have collected." She sighed and shook her head. "I was hoping for answers when you awoke, but now there are only more questions. And with Tamlen missing, if he was as sick as you, his condition would be grave indeed." Aria knew the Keeper would need to keep calm for the clan, but she was having none of it. "He is more important than any of these questions you have, we need to find him!" She pushed herself away from the tree, anger giving her strength.

There was no point arguing however, as the Keeper nodded. "Yes da'len, you are right. Duncan had returned to the cave to look for darkspawn, but we must go ourselves if we are to find Tamlen. Do you feel strong enough to lead the way back?" Aria nodded, her heart set on going back to that cave to look for her lost clanmate. "Anything for him." Her voice was soft, and the Keeper embraced her into a hug. " I know. Take Merrill with you. I'm ordering the clan to pack up so we can move on north. This incident was a sign that we need to move on again. If not a bad omen, then we need to get away from the potential darkspawn horde. That and a nearby village of humans have roused against us. We cannot stay here any longer. Be swift, and find Tamlen if you can, but do not put yourself in more danger da'len." Aria nodded and turned to go, but stopped, looking back at the Keeper. "Those ruins, they had elvish things in them, statues, potential lore. Are you really willing to leave it all behind?" The Keeper sighed once more, bringing a hand to rub her forehead. "This is all such a headache. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious, but it's not worth getting anyone else sick over. I only risk asking you to go back in hopes of finding Tamlen. I'm sending Merrill with you because she knows some of the magic that helped save you. If Tamlen is also sick, he'll need it. Plus she has a sense for these things, she might be able to shed some light on whatever is going on."

Fenarel spoke up, having been listening quietly the entire time, a look of fear plastered across his face. "Aria is still weak, I'd like to go with Keeper, just to help keep an eye on her." Aria shot him a glance, there was no need to mention that she was still weak, she didn't need the Keeper to hold her back. She had to go on. But Marethari seemed to be understanding and she nodded. "Of course. Please be careful."

Aria knew she wasn't going to be able to do it without help. She was sick, although with what exactly she had no clue. Still, she drew strength from her resolve to find Tamlen. She wasn't going to waste time, and grabbed her gear lying nearby to strap up, doing her best to not show her weakness. Merrill walked up to them, replacing the Keeper as Aria tightened the clinch on her quiver. "You're going to need this." She handed over a small bottle, and Aria didn't hesitate, downing its contents as warmth spread through her limbs, giving her vigor. "Thank you." She said, and checked the blades of both daggers, making sure they were still useable. "The Keeper said I'm to accompany you back to those caves." She held tight to her staff, seeming more nervous than even Fenarel. Aria reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. "Everything we encountered in those caves is dead, and the Grey Warden is supposedly there too. We'll be fine." Merrill nodded, still looking nervous. Even as the Keeper's First, she always seemed to be easily spooked. She'd grow into the role eventually. She was great with magic, and caught on to lore easily, it was just having a spine she needed to work on. If only Aria had been able to help with that. She cringed, thinking about how lately whenever Merrill had some free time, Aria would prefer to spend her time with Tamlen, hunting or just cloud gazing. "Let us make haste then, we don't have much time."

Aria, confident she had everything, lead the way out of camp. Before they got too far, they were stopped by Master Ilen. In fact, a lot of the clan was looking at the small group gathered, a few children stared with wide eyes and scared expressions. What tales were told while she was unconscious she wondered. The Master was carrying a bow, and he presented it to her. "It may not have a history, but I can trust you will give it one. Bring Tamlen back to us. I know you two were very close." Aria took the bow, one of his own making, and ran a hand across the smooth surface. "Thank you Master. I will." She bowed to him, and headed out into the woods.

As they headed to the cave, a strange guttural voice caught their attention, and Aria nocked an arrow into her new bow, looking for the source. Strange humanoids were up ahead, they had the same feeling of wrongness as the bear creature they had encountered, and she was confident that these things were the darkspawn the Keeper had mentioned. She didn't seem to notice Fenarel charging in with his swords, and Merrill's bolts from her staff. These things could be the source of what took Tamlen, and it was like she had blinders on, with only one goal, to kill everything in her way. Even after they fell she approached the bodies, hauling out a dagger to hack at them. Fenarel pulled her back, concern in his voice. "Aria, Aria! They're dead!" She breathed heavily, and wiped a tear from her eyes. "We have to find him." Both elves nodded and Merrill took a moment to observe the corpses. "You can just smell the evil on them, I've never seen anything like these!" Aria shook her head, unsure now of what that meant. "They weren't here before, maybe it had something to do when Tamlen touched the mirror. There was a bear that just felt like them in the same room." What she didn't mention is that she swore she just knew they were ahead of them on the path before even hearing them.

Merrill and Fenarel both grew concerned at that statement. "If what you say is true, and that mirror had something to do with our people, I don't know what the darkspawn have anything to do with it." Merrill seemed genuinely puzzled while Fenarel just shrugged, as he had nothing else to add to it. He had never been very good with his history lessons, and this probably all felt like something he should have paid more attention to. Aria shrugged as well, she had no answers as she turned away to press on towards the cave.

"Wait, are you okay?" The voice came from behind, and Aria turned again towards Merrill, scoffing. "I'm fine, but Tamlen isn't. We need to go." She continued on, leaving the two to follow. She could hear them talking, something about how pale she looked, how she was unsteady when she awoke and if they had left too soon, if she had actually recovered. Her only focus now was to find Tamlen, and she wasn't going to worry about herself until that was done. She tuned them out, picking up the pace best she could to ignore them.

They soon came across a campsite, and while the other two pondered if it belonged to the shem Grey Warden, Aria continued past it. Unaware they had lost her, they continued their observations, like how it had grown unnaturally silent, how just a feeling of wrongness seemed to affect the area. Aria soon thought she knew why as there were more of the darkspawn creatures up ahead, and she loosed a few arrows before the others had even realized she was fighting. "Wait hold up!" Merrill cried to no avail, and she redied her staff. Half of them were dead before the other two had caught up.

She didn't even bother looking at the corpses, stepping over them as she headed towards the cave like a woman possessed. There was only one thought on her mind. "Aria wait up! You aren't going to help Tamlen by running headfirst into danger!" Fenarel was calling after her now, trying to reason with her. This caused her to stop midstep, a halting motion as she came to rest. She set her foot down and turned. The malice in her eyes caused her approaching companions to stop. "I finally got to kiss someone. I finally was able to admit I loved someone. My best friend. Now he's gone, he could be dying and you want me to wait?" She sighed, returning on the path to the cave. "I didn't even get to tell him how I felt..." The last part was said so softly, she would have been surprised if anyone heard her over the quiet crunch of leaves underfoot.

While the other elves hesitated as the ruins came into view, Aria continued on as if she hadn't encountered nightmares in their depths. Her friends seemed to sense something was off and tried to make conversation. "Uhh Aria, maybe you could tell us more of what was down here?" Fenarel stuttered thinking about it. "Yeah uhh, you mentioned spiders and corpses and some weird bear to the Keeper? What do we need to look out for exactly?"

With a roll of her eyes, Aria slowed her steps to keep in pace with the others as she relived the tale in as few details as possible, that to her felt like it had occurred hours previously, not days. As she talked, her voice got slower, betraying her grogginess. Fenarel suggested they rest, but the look she shot him pierced daggers, and he hurried past her lest he say anything else that incited her wrath. She had never acted this way to her friends before, and it was clear they were concerned for her, in their motions, their voices. She could tell it, and yet, she wasn't concerned for herself. The things one did when matters of the heart were involved.

Merrill was making remakes about the ruins, confirming the things Tamlen said earlier about being of human origin, something else about the monsters. She mentioned his name and Aria perked up like a dog being called by its master. "Did you find something?" Merrill shook her head. "No lethallan, I was just remarking that we need to find him, or what's left of him." Those words triggered something within her and one of Aria's blades came whipping out, her hand holding it close to Merrill's throat. "Don't you dare say such things." The mage audibly gulped and nodded ever so slightly. Aria seemed to realize what she had done and gasped in surprise, her dagger dropping from her grasp, reeling back from her friend. "Ir abelas. Ir abelas." She repeated the statement and fell to her knees. "Ir abelas." The resounding sobs from her apology echoed in the cavern, muffled only by the embrace of her friends.

No words needed to be said between them, the silence growing as both of them dropped down besides their friend, holding her in her grief. It wasn't just her that had lost him, they all had. Tamlen was a smiling face that brought joy to everyone. While many elves had hoped to catch his attention, it was clear his eyes were only for Aria. His absence would be affecting them just as hard as it was getting to her, and she was angry at herself for being selfish. When they finally got moving again, Aria seemed to be more herself again. Still she was pale, and understandably worried, but she didn't move like a golem going through the motions, or like someone under compulsion any longer.

"Did you kill these before?" Fenarel asked, kicking a corpse of another of those darkspawn as they continued through the tunnels. Aria shook her head, unsure of what killed them, but not liking what that could mean for them, for Tamlen. As with before, she stopped her friends from walking into a trap, only this one was new, a carefully held leghold. As she tripped it so no one would walk into it, they heard some noises up ahead, sounding suspiciously like the gutteral sound those creatures made while alive. So they were intelligent enough to spring traps too. That didn't bode well for anyone.

The ones up ahead were not any harder to take out than the first, so Aria deduced they probably weren't any tougher than the ones that they encountered on the path. It just meant they needed to be careful. They were smarter than they looked, and in large groups, Aria could understand how dangerous they could be and why the Keeper had been wary of a horde of them. Just the idea of a slew of these creatures coming at you, with traps and chokepoints laid out was enough to give her nightmares.

She understood even better when a magical bolt hit her head in the chest, knocking her to her knees. "Take cover! It can cast magic!" She rolled behind some rubble, taking out her bow to shoot back at the beast that had come down a tunnel as she was lost in her musings. How stupid, she was supposed to be the lookout of the three of them. Fenarel seemed trapped, hiding behind his shield. Aria looked at him, pain in her eyes as she saw Tamlen's shield about to be crushed by giant claws. No, it wasn't Tamlen, and she snarled, focusing that pain through her arrow, striking the magic casting beast between the eyes. Fenarel was then free to go after the others, while she drew her daggers and joined the fray, Merrill's bolts covering her from behind.

Aria had always been able to handle gore, but the smell of these creatures was nauseating her, and she hunched over vomiting. Perhaps it wasn't their smell after all that made her sick, but rather the illness that seemed to be affecting her, as what she expelled from her stomach was black as night. She tried to cover it, kicking some rubble over the liquid, but it was too late to hide it from her companions as they approached. "Fenedhis!" Merrill cursed and Fenarel grew pale. "You're sick, you need to rest lethallan-" No!" She cut him off, pulling herself upright. "We're almost there. Just a little further please." Her friends looked at each other, and then at her with pity in their eyes. "And what happens when we get there, we begin the search further out, it's not as close as you think." Even so, Merrill chanted under her breath, a glow of light enveloping her hand as she placed it on Aria's forehead. A wash of warmth spread through her but by the look on Merrill's face, it wasn't enough. Fenarel put an arm around her, propping her up to assist her in walking, for which her tired body was grateful. Just what had that mirror done to her?

She wasn't wrong on how far they were, the next door would lead to the mirror chamber, and they opened the door with caution, expecting to find more darkspawn, but instead they were met with the corpses of the beasts, along with the remains of the bear thing they had killed. Merrill swore again and even Fenarel gasped in surprise. "That's the creature you killed?" Aria nodded but her attention was on the mirror and the man standing in front of it. "You're not Tamlen." Her voice was hard, even more so as the general build of the person for sure didn't belong to any elf.

The man turned, and Aria recognized the darker skinned human as the shem from what she swore was a dream. He must be that Grey Warden the Keeper was talking about. "No, I'm not. So you were the ones fighting the darkspawn. I thought I heard combat." He squinted at the trio of them, and a moment of clarity came across his face. "You're the elf I found in the forest. I'm surprised you're still alive to be honest." Aria's eyes narrowed. "Alive? Yeah it'll take more than some sickness to kill me." She scoffed and looked at him closely. He didn't seem taken aback by her scorn, but to be fair, she probably looked like death keeled over and not much of anything intimidating. "So you're Duncan? The Keeper mentioned you." He smiled slightly, and that upset her for some reason, although her head was swimming and she couldn't place why. "Yes, it's a pleasure to actually meet you, you were barely conscious last we met. Aria is it?" Merrill gave a small bow with her head and spoke in a much more pleasant tone. "Andaran atish'an, Duncan of the Grey Wardens, I am Merrill, the Keeper's apprentice." Fenarel too spoke in a much lighter tone. "And I am Fenarel. Did you really come here battling all those creatures alone?"

Aria scoffed. What were they doing wasting time with pleasantries? Every moment spent talking was another wasted second that Tamlen could be dying. She tried to step away from her elven companions, but found herself too weak to stand. Luckily everyone had been keeping an eye on her as three sets of hands reached out to catch her. She muttered a thanks and leaned back into Fenarel, scowling as she refused to let a shem help her any more than he already had.

"Yes, although I will admit you did take a great deal of pressure off me by fighting the ones you did. Your Keeper didn't send you after me did she? I told her I was in no danger." Duncan was calm if not puzzled, then he pieced the parts together. "Ah yes, she mentioned another had gone missing, that's who you mentioned earlier right? Tamlen?" Aria nodded, but already she was dreading the answer. Duncan was here in this room and if he had gone to help her, he would likely have helped Tamlen as well, however much it pained her to admit a shem could be kind to the elves. "None of us have heard the full story. You both were here in this room I suspect? With this mirror? A bereskarn doesn't just die on its own and if you didn't do it..."

Aria hesitated, not wanting to tell the shem anything but maybe he knew something, something that could help her. "Yes, that's right. The two of us killed it and then we checked out the mirror. He touched it, said he saw something move in it, and that something saw him. There was a flash of light and then nothing. I don't know how I got out of the cave where you found me but please tell me you found some trace of him." She was pleading. She would kick herself later for the tone in her voice, but for Tamlen, a bit of humility would help. The shem had to know something, she didn't even know how she got out of the cave let alone where Tamlen went. The look on the man's face said it all before he even had to speak. "No, and I don't suspect I will."

"Please no." She lost the strength to stand as she fell to the floor in tears. Fenarel seemed to know he wasn't keeping her up and let her fall gracefully at least. Why did he have to touch the cursed thing? Merrill was asking why Duncan thought that, but the explanation was distant, something about old artifacts, used for communication and how it had been somehow tainted like the darkspawn, that the touch must have released that darkness in it. "What are you saying? That these creatures are here because of us?"

"You're sick, and I suspect Tamlen is too. Those tainted can sense one another to some extent and I suspect it attracted the darkspawn here. You at least have a chance to survive, but it's too late for your friend now." Aria sobbed harder, pleading through the tears. "No, the Keeper healed me, she can help him too we just have to find him. Please help us." Where Aria had anger before, Merrill had it now. "There's no need to jump to conclusions, as she said the Keeper healed her, there's no proof Tamlen is sick, but just leaving him to his fate seals it."

"The mirror will taint any who come too close, and the taint has no cure. Your Keeper just delayed this girl's death. You can see it's already affecting her even worse than before." All three of the elves looked both mortified and confused. "Are you saying I'm dying?" "But you said she had a chance!" "No, there's no way this is beyond even the Keeper's magic." Their voices overlapped, and Duncan patiently waited for them to finish before he continued.

"I will explain all that I can. First, we need to take care of the mirror, it is a pestilence and threat, even more so with you two here." The armored man took the few steps that lead to the raised dias and drew his sword. He brought it crashing into the glass, shattering it into a million pieces as another light akin to the one from what was now days ago shone through the room. As the room came back into focus, the shattered glass felt like Aria's heart as she came to the conclusion that Tamlen was gone. A deep regret settled into the bit of her stomach. "It should have been me." she whispered under her breath, not even audible over her sobs. She was always the more dour of the two, while she could be light hearted, Tamlen was the one who brought joy to their people, Aria just often hid in the background and let him and others take the spotlight. Out of the two of them, he would be missed the most, and now he was gone. Her tears slowed as it occurred to her that she might very well die, and the thought sobered her. Death seemed preferred to a life without him.

Duncan sheathed his sword and walked over to the trio. "You two lead the way, we need to talk to the Keeper about her cure." With that he leaned down to pick her up, cradling her in his arms like an overgrown child. She would have objected, but she was then hit with another wave of nausea, black ichor spilling down the front of his armor. "Don't touch any of it, or the darkspawn," he started as Merrill reached for some cloth from her bag to wipe him down, "and I'd clean off your sword before we get back to your camp if I were you. We don't need any of you getting ill as well. I'll be fine, part of being a Warden" She hesitated, but put the cloth back, nodding as she came to an understanding. "Contact with it can spread the taint, the same thing your friend here has contracted. I don't think you need more of this on your hands."

Aria pounded weakly on the man's chest as they walked off, a small bout of resistance. "Please, sathan, sathan. I need my Tamlen. Why couldn't you save him..." Her voice trailed off as fever overcame her and once again she drifted into unconsciousness. The last thought she had was of how weak this shem was going to think she was for needing to be carried by him twice now.

Fenarel led the way and Merrill brought up the rear, where no one could see her take a mirror shard and slide it into her pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish Translations  
> Shem/Shemlen: The original name elves use for the human race; continues to see use as a slang term amongst the City Elves ("shems") even though its meaning has largely been lost; literally "quick children".  
> Lethallan: Casual reference used for someone with whom one is familiar; generally, lethallin is used for males while lethallan is used for females.  
> Da’len: Little child; little one.  
> Ir abelas: I am sorry.  
> Fenedhis: A common curse, suspected translation: Wolf dick  
> Andaran atish'an: Enter this place in peace. A formal elven greeting.  
> Sathan: Please


End file.
